


Tumblr drabble prompts of various shades of MSR

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Humor, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 40,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These will vary in tone and ratings, but it all comes down to the fact that Mulder loves Scully and Scully loves Mulder</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You did all this for me?

Prompt - "You did all this for me?" 

When Mulder walked into the office Monday morning, he could sense something was amiss as soon as he pushed open the door.  The smell of cleaning products hung in the air and the room was brighter.  Normally dim and greasy with dust and grime, the strip of windows embedded in the ceiling had been cleaned and the sun was streaming in like a spotlight on his desk.  He heard a sneeze from the back room and almost dropped the paper bag he was holding and went for his weapon until he saw Scully's head pop up through the glass partition.

 

"Scully?" he asked.

 

"Oh," she answered, stepping out from the back and bracing a gloved hand on the door frame.  "You're early."

 

"It's 6am, _you're_ early.  What are you doing here?"

 

"I came in this weekend to straighten up a bit."  She gave a nervous glance past his shoulder towards his desk and filing cabinets. "I didn't disturb your...system.  If that's what you're worried about."

 

"Do I look worried?"  He relaxed his facial muscles, realizing he'd been clenching his jaw and his brow was pinched.

 

"You do, actually."

 

"What exactly did you do?"

 

"I moved the light board in here," she said, tipping her head back towards the small room.  "I also made a space for the projector when you're not using it and organized the boxes of slides in the cabinet next to it."

 

Mulder casually made his way past Scully into the small back room, trying not to reveal his panic.  He might be cluttered, but he considered himself to have an organized clutter.  He knew where everything was and there was a method to his madness.  Opening the drawers in the cabinet, he held his breath.

 

"I had to guess at the labels," she said, moving closer so her chin hovered over his arm as he ran his hand over the boxes of slides.  Each box had its own white sticker with neat block letters.  Abductions: Human.  Abductions: Animal.  Crop Circles: Domestic.  Crop Circles: Foreign.  Demonic Possession.  Metallic Objects.  UFO.  Other.

 

"There should be a box for exsanguination," he said.

 

"Is that what this is?"  She reached up onto the shelf and pulled down a box with a blank label on the front.  "I thought maybe Vampirism."

 

"Exsanguination would be better."

 

"Okay."  She turned around and grabbed a permanent marker.

 

"Where are-"

 

"The books?  On the shelves on the other side of the door."

 

Mulder walked back into the main room and stood in the alcove past the door.  His textbooks were neatly aligned on two shelves.  They seemed to be categorized, but he couldn't quite put together the order.  He smiled when it hit him and gave a slight chuckle.

 

"Dewey Decimal, Scully?"

 

"I spent a lot of time in the library in med school."

 

Turning, he looked around the room again.  Parts of it looked almost respectable.  Like a real office instead of a storage room.  "So...you did all of this for me?"

 

Scully's brow shot up in a perfect arc in that 'Mulder, you're crazy' look he'd gotten accustomed to in the last few months.  "I'm rarely in the bullpen these days," she said.  "I thought it might be easier if I can at least find things down here as well."

 

Ah, so she's nesting, he thought.  It made him bristle a little.  He'd never had to share his space before and he didn't mind her presence, but he didn't really like her touching his things. Plus, he still wasn't entirely sure she was to be trusted.  On the other hand, it looked nicer and it smelled nicer and there was actual sun streaming in the windows so it felt a little less depressing too.  It was hard not to appreciate the gesture.

 

"Um, bear claw?" Mulder asked, handing her the paper bag in his hand.  She hesitated and then took it from him, unfolding the top and looking inside.  Changing his mind, he snatched it back, a little harsher than he intended.

 

"Hey!" she said.

 

"On second thought, you don't want that.  It'll clog your arteries.  Blech, bear claws.  There's a nice little diner up the street.  The waffles are great.  They'll put ice cream on top if you ask them to."

 

"I really don't think I'm up for ice cream at 6am."

 

"Pancakes, then.  Eggs benedict.  The lumberjack special.  Anything you want."

 

"I guess...breakfast would be nice."

 

"Great."  He ushered her towards the door.  "Hey, what did you do with-"

 

"The videos in the drawer that aren't yours?"

 

"I was going to ask about my back issues of The Lone Gunman."

 

"Filed by publication date in the small cabinet under the window."

 

"But, since you brought it up..."

 

"I left that drawer alone."

 

The End


	2. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Prompt - “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” (David/Gillian request)

 

David shuffled into his trailer, only half-awake. He left the light off, wanting nothing more than to just get out of his clothes and into his be as soon as possible. He’d been up since 2am for a 3am call. 18 hours later, he was wrapped for the day and it was a good thing too because he was dead on his feet. Plus, his eyes hurt from being trapped with a smoke machine inside a sound stage for a full day.

 

Before he even shut the door, he began to leave a trail of Mulder behind him. First, Mulder’s suit jacket, then Mulder’s tie. Mulder’s shoes, Mulder’s dress shirt, Mulder’s belt, Mulder’s pants, Mulder’s undershirt, Mulder’s socks. The boxers were his own, and they were the last to go. The guy wore too many constricting clothes. In his next gig, he was going to make sure all he wore was jeans and t-shirts. Or better yet, just his underwear. No, why not just naked. It would certainly be more preferable than Mulder’s stupid business wardrobe.

 

As soon as he fell, face first, onto the bed, David was out like a light. His only thought before his head hit the mattress was to wonder why it smelled like ginger.

 

Gillian yawned as she opened the door to her trailer. She was tired. They’d let David go a half hour before her and she’d needed to stick around for inserts. She grumbled a bit about it, considering her call was always an hour before his – damn hair and make-up being a bitch for women – but also supposed it worked out fair in the end since he had an 8am call in the morning and hers was at 11.

 

When she flipped the light switch, the first thing she noticed was a suit jacket lying on the top step up inside the trailer. She followed the trail of clothes into the back and, dumbfounded, lifted her brows as she stood in front of her bed, hands on her hips. There lay David Duchovny, bare-assed naked, snoring on her bed.

 

“What the fuck?” she said out loud. David didn’t stir. She crossed her arms and leaned over the bed, inspecting his face. He was definitely dead asleep, even drooling slightly. She sighed and then smacked him on his left butt cheek. Hard.

 

David jumped, limbs twitching and flailing as he blinked his eyes open. He lifted his head and dropped it back down, disoriented. In the corner of his eye he saw Gillian, in her uptight Scully pantsuit, arms folded and scowling at him with a Scully scowl. He groaned and rolled over.

 

“There a reason you woke me?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The light was too bright and he was too tired for whatever argument she was about to pick with him.

 

“Is there a reason _you’re_ naked in _my_ bed,” she answered, putting her hand up and in front of her face like she was blocking the sun out of her eyes. If the sun was somehow shining up at her from where he lay.

 

“Hm?” He looked down and yelped. “Oh, fuck me!” he yelled, scrambling up to find something to grab and shield himself. He swiped a pillow from the top of the bed and covered his lap.

 

“No, thank you,” she said and then wrinkled her nose at him. “You better not be getting your dick on my pillow.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, it was dark and I was tired and I thought this was my trailer.” Still in a slight daze at being woken so suddenly, and still exhausted, he swayed a little and rubbed his eyes again. She bent over and hooked the waistband of his boxers on her index finger and held them out to him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, sliding off the bed to put his underwear on as she sat down. She tipped her head to the side and admired the view.

 

“Nice ass, Duchovny.”

 

“You want to go tit for tat?”

 

“I think you’ve seen enough of my tits for one lifetime.”

 

“But, they’re great tits. They deserve to be seen.”

 

“You are quite the gentleman.”

 

“It was a compliment!” He stumbled into his pants and banged his hip against the wall. She laughed at him and he glared at her as he swiped his socks from the floor and picked up his shoes. He slung his belt over his shoulder and she crossed her arms again.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare leave this trailer half-dressed,” she said.

 

“But, I’ll just have to take it all off again when I get to mine,” he whined. “All I want to do is sleep.”

 

“You probably should’ve thought of that before you stripped down in the first place.”

 

He sighed and pulled his shirt on. His eyes were bloodshot and watery and his fingers moved slowly as he tried to button up. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The only reason she crossed over to him and buttoned his shirt up herself was because he just couldn’t move fast enough, and the quicker she got him dressed, the quicker he’d be gone.

 

“Thanks,” he said, shoving his socks into his pockets and stepping into his shoes. “Can I at least forego the tie?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He wrapped the tie around his hand and scooped up the suit jacket as he shuffled his way out.

 

“Wait,” she said, going into the back again and then yanking the pillow case off the pillow that was in his lap. She went to the door and threw it at his chest. He caught it one-handed and frowned quizzically at her.

 

“You’re washing that for me. I don’t know where your dick has been, but I’m not putting my face on that pillow.”

 

He rolled his eyes and then paused with his hand on the door. “Not even just one boob?”

 

“Get the fuck out of my trailer, Duchovny.”

 

The End


	3. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Prompt - “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

 

Mulder surreptitiously listened to the quiet phone call Scully was having on the other side of the room. He hadn’t paid much attention when her cell phone rang, but his ears perked up when she laughed. She so rarely laughed. Especially on the phone.

 

“No,” she said. “It’s perfectly fine. I can leave a little early today.” She glanced over and saw Mulder watching her, but he ducked his head when she caught his eye. “Reservations at eight is plenty of time. I’m looking forward to it too. Bye.”

 

Scully hung up her call and Mulder busied himself with sorting through his slides. After a few minutes of nothing, he snuck a glance over at her and watched her make little notes on a pad of Post-Its and stick them to an autopsy report. More minutes ticked by and he looked at the clock, noting it was almost 4:30 and if she was going to leave early, it should be pretty soon, but she continued with her notes.

 

“So,” Mulder said, pretending to align his slides in a careful order, though he was not paying the least bit of attention to what he was doing. “You’re leaving early today?”

 

She didn’t even look up. “Were you listening to my phone call?”

 

“Not at all. Just couldn’t help but hear.” He paused and scratched the corner of one of his slides with his thumbnail. “Hot date?”

 

“Friend from college is in town.”

 

“Oh yeah? What’s her name?”

 

“Phil.”

 

“Is that short for Philomena?”

 

Scully put down her pen and turned her head towards him, lifting her brow. He straightened in his chair and went back to playing with his slides. Another few minutes passed in which he spent trying to picture Scully with someone named Phil. Phil and Dana. Dana and Phil. Mr. and Mrs. Phillip….what kind of last name would Phil have? Scully would probably keep her name. Maybe she would make him change his name. Phil Scully. Mr. Phillip Scully.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Hm? What? Sorry, are you leaving?”

 

“In a minute. I asked if you have the Leeds file. I’m done with the autopsy report and we should probably get it to Skinner by Monday.”

 

“I’ll do that,” he said, holding out his hand to her for her report. “You have a…a thing, so…”

 

Scully hesitantly handed over her report to Mulder and they both held on to the separate sides for a few moments too long. He was acting strange, not meeting her eye and pretending to sort slides and she didn’t know why. She only let go of the folder when he finally looked up at her.

 

“Where’s he taking you?”

 

“Angelino’s.” She turned to gather her things, starting with shutting down her laptop. She made sure the files she planned to review over the weekend were tucked inside her briefcase.

 

“Zagat’s only gives it two stars. Kind of a cheap date, isn’t it?”

 

Scully froze in place for a moment and then turned slowly, putting her hands on her hips. Mulder met her eyes and a look of fear came over his face. His adam’s apple bobbed erratically up and down in his throat.

 

“Uh, because if it was me,” he said. “I would take you to Chez Francois.”

 

“Mulder, the restaurants you take me to wouldn’t even qualify to be Zagat rated. Some of them aren’t even qualified to be restaurants.”

 

“But, if I were taking you out…”

 

“If you were taking me _out_? Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

 

“No!” Mulder protested and his voice rose an octave.

 

Scully’s eyes narrowed a little and then she turned around and snatched her blazer from the back of her chair. She shrugged it on, running through all the things she might say to Mulder when she turned around. She was about to let him have it, but she saw his face and stopped. He looked like a little boy who’d just lost his favorite toy. She relaxed her stance and decided to let him off easy.

 

“Phil and his husband Ken are in town to visit family. This is the one night they’ve set aside to meet up with friends.”

 

“Sorry, Scully, I…I don’t know why I just…”

 

Scully came around the desk towards him as he stuttered and leaned over, grabbing onto the knot in his tie. For a moment, he thought she might choke him, but she only ran her thumb along the collar of his shirt and gave his tie a small tug.

 

“If you want to go to Chez Francois, Mulder, all you have to do is ask.”

 

Mulder swallowed heavily and his muscles jumped against her thumb. She smiled and then backed away. He got up, following her back to her chair and he reached down to pick her briefcase up for her.

 

“Have a good time,” he said.

 

“Have a good weekend,” she answered, sliding her hand into the handle next to his. He didn’t let go, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked.

 

“Free for ghost hunting or free for four star dining?”

 

“Oh, did you have a preference?” he asked, a sparkle coming into his eye.

 

“I think I’ll let you answer that question for me.”

 

He relinquished the briefcase to her and they stared at each other for a few more moments. She turned to leave and he went back to his desk.

 

“Haunted houses are the most active after dusk,” he called out to her.

 

She paused at the door. “Keep in mind, Mulder, how well you decide determines how far you get.” With that, she was gone, and Mulder was already pulling out the phone book to find the number for Chez Francois.

 

“You always keep me guessing,” he whispered to himself, picking up the phone.

 

The End


	4. "Kiss me"

Prompt - “Kiss me.” (David/Gillian request)

 

David lay next to Gillian, propped up on his elbow, panting with exertion. “Kiss me,” he husked. She broke into peels of laughter, collapsing onto the floor. He rubbed his slime covered cheek against hers.

 

“Motherfucker!” she shrieked, laughing harder and swiping her hand across her goopy face.

 

“Cut!” David Nutter yelled. “David!” Exasperation was clear in the director’s voice.

 

He got into trouble with Nutter, but it was worth it to hear her laugh.

 

*****

 

When he’d offered to be her date, he expected she’d say no. He’d meant it, but he’d been surprised. And now the atmosphere in the limo was too melancholy and not a good vibe to be preparing to face a red carpet full of press. No one had ever accused him of being sensitive to someone else’s emotional needs, but he felt obligated to do something for her. She had been far too unhappy for far too long, and as much time as they spent together, her moods also affected him and he was tired of the sadness.

 

He took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. She paid him no notice as she gazed out of the tinted windows while the limo crawled through LA traffic to the Beverly Hilton. He slid over to the side seat where she was and stretched out with his head in her lap. The sequins on her flesh-toned dress scratched the back of his neck.

 

“I’ll cover for you if you bail,” he said. She shook her head in response. “I’ll tell everyone you stayed in Vancouver with a bad case of hemorrhoids.”

 

The corners of her mouth lifted briefly, but then her chin began to wobble. He could see her eyes grow glassy with tears, turning her irises an electric shade of blue. Normally, he’d wait until he was at his most unappealing; covered in slime, fake blood, vomit or manure to pull out his favorite chestnut, the one that always got her laughing, but clearly he needed to pull out all the stops today.

 

He tapped her on the chin until she looked at him. “Kiss me,” he said, pursing his lips into an exaggerated pout.

 

She chuckled and when she blinked, two tears fell into his hair. She grabbed the top of his head and under his chin with both hands. For a moment, he thought she was going to throttle him, but she only pretended to, squeezing him once and then she pressed her knuckles under her eyes.

 

“Damn mascara,” she said.

 

“I hear raccoon is the hot look on the carpet this year.”

 

She smiled and sniffed, turning her fingers to dab at the corners of her eyes before she dropped one hand to the plush seat and one hand to his chest. He covered her hand with his and stroked her arm.

 

“Don’t let go of me tonight, okay?” she asked. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”

 

“I won’t.”

 

*****

 

Kim yelled cut and Gillian dropped her head. David swayed quietly with the baby until the set nurse came to take him out of his arms and then he pulled Gillian into a hug. She tucked her face against his neck and closed her eyes. Eight years was a long time to spend together, but now that it was over it seemed that it had gone too quickly. Even during the worst of times when they’d slammed doors on each other or proclaimed they never wanted to see the other’s face again, she’d never imagined this moment would come. Her eyes filled with tears that dripped silently onto his neck.

 

He furrowed his brow and put a hand on the back of her head. He didn’t know why she was holding on to him so tightly like she was afraid of letting go because he’d long been under the impression that life would be better for her as soon as he left. He definitely didn’t expect tears. Pushing her hair back and over her ear, he bent his head to whisper to her.

 

“Kiss me,” he said. Instead of laughing, she let out a sob and her arms locked tighter around his neck. It broke his heart.

 

*****

 

They had worked together for eight years, but hadn’t seen each other in six. It hadn’t felt that long, but they’d both changed tremendously. David rubbed a hand over his beard, definitely not yet feeling like Mulder after two days of filming. The fake facial hair felt weird and unnatural and looked just as weird and unnatural to him.

 

The Mulder-Scully house set was a trip, and it definitely didn’t help with getting into character. On the surface, it seemed like a place Mulder might live, but he couldn’t picture Scully there. A little too rustic. Except for the lavender bedspread. There was a touch of Scully there.

 

“Hey,” Gillian said behind him, and he turned around. It was the first time he’d seen her since the brief hours they spent running through the new script.

 

“Hey yourself,” he answered.

 

She raised her brows. “I’m sorry, I was looking for David Duchovny. Who might you be?”

 

“Get over here, Scully,” he growled.

 

She wrinkled her nose as she walked up to him and reached up to touch his unfamiliar face.

 

“Does this rugged, mountain man look turn you on at all?” he asked.

 

“Not in the least,” she answered.

 

“Kiss me,” he said.

 

She giggled and her laughter turned to squeals of protest when he pulled her backwards into his arms and rubbed his cheek against hers.

 

“Scratchy beard!” she complained, trying to wiggle free, but he’d missed her laugh too much to let her go so easily.

 

*****

 

He asked if she might want to sing with him and she thought it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, but also the sweetest. So, she said yes. She was amazed at how cool and confident he looked on a stage, like it was something he just did every day. She was proud of him.

 

When he came off stage to get her and explain what her cue would be, she had a vague sense that she’d been wrong. He stuttered a little. He seemed scattered.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“Anxious,” he said. “Don’t want anyone to think they wasted their time here. Just anxious.”

 

As she approached him on the stage, she came at him with a smile, only wishing to make him laugh like he’d do for her so many times. “Kiss me,” she whispered to him, touching her lips to his. When she pulled away and he grinned at her, she felt like she’d paid a debt.

 

The End


	5. "Marry Me"

Prompt - “Marry me.”

 

Scully lay on the couch, drowsy from a long day at work. Her feet were in Mulder’s lap, and he rubbed one gently, using just the right amount of pressure with his thumb up her instep, down around her heel, and under her toes. Practice had made him perfect. In his left hand he held a magazine, and as fully engrossed as he was in whatever article he was reading, he only took his hand away to turn a page, but immediately returned to massaging her sore feet so that it was like he’d never paused.

 

Daggoo was on the floor next to the couch, chewing on his paws. The sound of it was grating, so Scully let her arm flop over the side and snapped her fingers to make him stop. The dog lifted his head and then got up and shook himself. He sniffed her hand and then jumped up and walked over her stomach. She clenched her abdominals as he trampled her and then lay down with his head on her chest.

 

“He needs a bath,” Mulder said, absently. His eyes never wavered from his magazine and his hands never wavered from her feet.

 

“Mm.” Scully agreed. She rubbed one of the dog’s ears between her fingers and he sighed.

 

The house was quiet and she felt serene with Mulder rubbing her feet and the dog contentedly curled on her chest. This was probably what life was like for most other people, every day. It was new for both of them, but it seemed like it was becoming habit.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Marry me.”

 

Mulder lowered his magazine and turned his head towards her. “Finally going to make an honest man out of me, Scully?”

 

“If you’ll have me.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“K. Let me know.” She wiggled her toes because he’d stopped squeezing her feet.

 

“Would you expect foot rubs every night?” he asked, resuming his massage of her feet and resuming his place in his magazine.

 

“It would have to be part of your vows, actually.”

 

“You drive a hard bargain.”

 

“Is there anything you want to negotiate for?”

 

“I think the standard love, honor, cherish is sufficient. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

 

“Mmkay.” Scully closed her eyes and a small smile played on her lips. She fell asleep as Mulder stroked her foot and the dog snored on her chest.

 

The End


	6. "Please, don't leave."

Prompt - “Please, don’t leave.”

 

Scully looked up at Mulder, amused by his rambling.  He tugged on her hands as he turned his face up to the sun and then he cocked his head and a look of confusion crossed his face.

 

"What?" she asked.

 

He shook his head, a puzzled look still in his eyes.

 

"Mulder, what?"

 

"You don't hear anything?"

 

"No."

 

"Hm."  He looked up into the sky and closed his eyes, smiling.  She gave his hands a squeeze and then let go.  "Please, don't leave," he said, his smile falling as he turned his face down.

 

Her stomach dropped and she felt a flutter across her abdomen.  It had been a long time since he'd looked at her with such longing.  She hesitated and opened her mouth.  A breeze kicked up and lifted her hair up into her face.  She went to move it back, but Mulder got there first, sliding his fingers over her ear as he tucked her hair back into place.

 

"Only if you want to," he said.  "Not because you don't have anywhere to be just now, but because you'd like to stay."

 

"I can give you an hour," she answered.  "Maybe two."

 

He took her hand.  "Come on, I'll make you lunch."

 

A day later, she still hadn't left.

 

The End


	7. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

Prompt - “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

 

When the adrenaline stopped pumping through his veins and there was no sign of any black helicopters following them out of the desert, Mulder slowed the car until it came to a stop. His heart slowed to a normal beat and breathing became easier. Waves of heat that radiated from the idling engine blurred his vision out the windshield now that they’d stopped moving.

 

“Mulder?” Scully asked.

 

“I could drop you at the nearest gas station,” he said, fingers clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. “You could always say I kidnapped you. Forced you. You can get out now with minimal repercussions.”

 

Scully licked her lips and took a look out all the windows at the surrounding desert. “We should head east,” she said. “If we go west, we’ll run out of places to go a lot faster.”

 

“Did you hear me?”

 

“Yes, I heard you. You know I like to ignore you when you say incredulous things.”

 

“You’ve been hurt too much.”

 

“ _We’ve_ been hurt too much, Mulder.”

 

Mulder put his head down against the steering wheel. “I really don’t know if I can do this without you. This year was…”

 

“I know,” she answered, reaching over to pull his hand into her own. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

 

He lifted his head and blinked back the tears in his eyes as he looked at her. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and kissed his knuckles. He opened his mouth, sighed, and then straightened in his seat. She let his hand go and he squeezed the steering wheel once again.

 

“We’ll find a motel for the night,” she said. “And then we’ll head east.”

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

She rolled her head to the side and gazed at him. He put the car in gear and kept going.

 

The End


	8. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Prompt - “It’s not what it looks like.”

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Mulder said.

 

Scully raised a brow, slowly walking down the back steps of the house and down to the concrete patio. “Really?” she said. “So you haven’t turned Will’s wading pool into a space ship and you’re not flying around the back yard hunting aliens?”

 

“Okay, it is what it looks like, but we’ll clean it up.”

 

“Mommy, put a hat on or the aliens will read your mind!” Will yelled. He was sitting cross-legged inside a small, plastic pool that seemed to have been duct taped to two skateboards, wearing a helmet covered in tin foil, swim goggles and a grass-stained t-shirt. He held one end of a jump rope and Mulder held the other, using it to pull the pool across the patio. He had his own bowl-shaped tin foil hat on covering his head.

 

“Oh yeah? Are the aliens reading my mind right now?” she asked. “They might find it interesting.”

 

“Scully!” Mulder said.

 

She laughed and swiped the hat from Mulder’s head and put it on her own, giving him a quick kiss on the chin. She lifted Will up out of the pool and then sat down inside, putting the four year old on her lap and getting comfortable.

 

“All right, Captain Will, where’re we headed?” she asked.

 

“The moon!” he yelled.

 

“Commence final count down,” Mulder said.

 

“Ten!” Will shouted, counting down backwards, interrupted by giggle fits as Scully tickled his ribs, but finally reaching number one. “Blast off!”

 

Mulder made rocket noises with his mouth as he dragged the pool across the patio, around the lawn chair and over to the barbecue. Will laughed with delight and Scully hugged him tight. He was having the time of his life and so was she.

 

The End


	9. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Prompt - “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

 

Scully stepped off the elevator to the basement with her shoulders back and her head high. Working right now was both a challenge and a life-saver. The bureau’s search for Mulder was still very much active, and every day she faced a new round of interrogation from junior upstarts that had probably still been in elementary school when she had graduated from the academy. Agents that were looking for that big break that could fast-track them up the ladder. None of them were going to find Mulder.

 

She heard laughter as she approached the door to the office. A cluster of agents surrounded Mulder’s desk with handfuls of files, laughing together. One of them was wearing a hat that was clearly not his own. Scully bristled. Her heels struck the ground with angry blows as she strode across the room.

 

“Take it off,” she said, holding her hand out to the agent with a withering glare.

 

“Excuse me?” he said.

 

“You heard me,” she answered through clenched teeth, her eyes flicking up to the Stonehenge Rocks hat on his head. “Take. It. Off.”

 

There was fear in the agent’s eyes, but he tried to mask it with a charming smile and a quick chuckle to save face in front of the other agents. Tension crackled in the ensuing silence and he slowly grasped the brim of the hat and slid it off his head. She snatched it out of his hands and after a harsh look into the eyes of each of the four agents watching her nervously, she turned and left the office and nearly sprinted to the bathroom.

 

Locking herself in one of the stalls, she clutched the hat with trembling hands. Her stomach rolled, but she knew it wasn’t from morning sickness. She couldn’t imagine how the hat had ended up in the office, but with dozens of people tearing through his things, it wasn’t too surprising. It was disconcerting though, to be reminded so suddenly of the night they spent together. As though the life inside her wasn’t reminder enough.

 

With her thumbs, she traced the letters on the hat, each and every one, and then she put a hand to her belly. If not for that night, if not for the crop circles that didn’t exist, if not for the ridiculous hat…

 

“Where are you,” she whispered.

 

The End


	10. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

Prompt - Scully to Mulder, “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

 

Mulder knew he was basically taking his life into his own hands with what he was about to do, but he was sure it would be worth it. “Scully,” he whispered, sliding his hands under the comforter to rub her leg.

 

“Mm,” Scully groaned. “Timezit.”

 

“Early, but you need to see this.” He continued rubbing her leg and hip and then kissed her shoulder. Her eyes opened slightly and then closed again, brows pinched together.

 

“Mulder, it’s 5:30 on a Sunday.”

 

“I know, I know, but I promise it’s good.”

 

Scully rolled over with a sigh, throwing her arm over her face. “If it has anything to do with mysterious lights in the sky, so help me God.”

 

Mulder chuckled and kissed her neck and collarbone. He took her hands and pulled her up to a sitting position. She kicked the comforter away and slid out of bed, yawning at him as he slipped her flannel robe over her shoulders. He walked backwards, holding her hands and leading her cautiously down the stairs.

 

“I got up early to take Daggoo out,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to catch his bearings.

 

“And?”

 

“And…” Mulder stopped Scully on the bottom step and bent down to grab her pair of Ugg boots that were waiting there. “You know how they said there was a chance of snow last night?”

 

“Yes.” She held onto Mulder’s shoulder, stepping into the boots he held for her.

 

“I think they underestimated that chance just a bit.”

 

Scully glanced across the living room at the fire crackling in the fireplace. Daggoo was curled up on the hearth, fast asleep. Mulder must’ve been up for awhile. He handed her a mug of coffee that was waiting on the table and then steered her towards the door.

 

“Oh my God,” she said, as Mulder opened the door.

 

There was at least a foot and a half of freshly fallen snow covering everything. It was so white it sparkled. Save for the small path that Mulder had created for the dog, it was all untouched and she knew that if she’d been in the city, it would probably all be dirty and slushy by now, but out here it looked pure and dazzling.

 

“Want to build a snowman?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist.

 

“Maybe later,” she said, sipping her coffee.

 

“Really?”

 

She shrugged. “How did Daggoo take it?”

 

“He was a little suspicious. A little confused. He tunneled through it for about two minutes and came back shivering and whining. It’s why I started the fireplace.”

 

“It really is beautiful.”

 

“It’s something.” He broke away from her and ran his hand over the porch railing, scooping up a handful of snow that he formed into a ball. He formed a pitching stance and hurled the snowball out into the yard, but the snow was so powdery it disintegrated as soon as it left his hand.

 

Scully snorted into her coffee mug. “Don’t quit your day job, Fox Mantle.”

 

Mulder hopped down the porch steps to where the snow was thicker and formed another ball, which he threw out as hard as he could, hitting a pine tree in the distance and dislodging snow from the needles. He winced and rubbed his shoulder.

 

“Take it easy, Mulder. You don’t want to go into work and tell Skinner you tore your rotator cuff pitching snowballs.”

 

“Just a little rusty, that’s all.”

 

“You’re not thirty anymore.”

 

Mulder scooped up another ball of snow and eyed Scully. “You’ve been quite the naysayer this morning.” He rolled the ball in his hand, packing it and looking at her.

 

“Mulder…”

 

“I made you coffee. I made you a fire.”

 

“You made the fire for the dog.”

 

“I presented you with Mother Nature at her finest, and you just called me old.” He tossed the snowball lightly up and down, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Mulder…” She lowered her coffee and gave him a serious look. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

 

The snowball Mulder tossed hit her directly in the chest, splintering up into her face and splattering into her coffee.

 

“Oops,” Mulder said. “Thought you’d catch it.”

 

Scully calmly put her coffee mug down and stomped through the drifts of snow that had made its way up the porch over to where Mulder was standing in the middle of the stairs. She put both hands on his chest and pushed, sending him backwards into the snow and he laughed as he fell.

 

“Oops,” she said.

 

Mulder picked himself up and stomped the snow from his pants. He hooked his arm around Scully’s waist and kissed her cheek. She shivered and he nuzzled her cheek and gave her another kiss. He squeezed her hip and then pulled at the collar of her robe and dropped a handful of snow down her back that he had hidden behind him.

 

“Mulder!” she shrieked.

 

He sprang away from her as she danced on the top steps of the porch, shaking snow out of her robe. He swiped the mug of coffee she’d put down on the floor and opened the door.

 

“You look cold, Scully. Why don’t you come on in and let me warm you up.”

 

The End


	11. If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely rated R

Prompt - “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

 

Technically, it was a first date, but it was hard to call it one. Seven years into their partnership, they’d had hundreds of meals together, been to dozens upon dozens of restaurants, but none as nice as the one they were in now. And never had eating together been more than a convenient way to discuss a case and keep the work going while satisfying the baser need for sustenance. This date had one rule: no work allowed.

 

Crossing the line of intimacy had almost been an accident; a true “one thing led to another” cliché that really seemed as though one minute, they were talking quietly on Mulder’s couch, then, they were kissing on Mulder’s couch, and suddenly, Scully found herself waking up in Mulder’s bed the next morning. They never spoke about it, but it happened again, and then a third time, and the fourth time it happened, Mulder had asked, seeing as though she was agreeable to sharing a shower with him, would she also maybe be agreeable to having dinner sometime. She said yes.

 

Their no-work-allowed, formal date, started off like a typical, getting-to-know-you first date than anyone might have. She bought a short, black dress for the occasion and open-toed shoes with taller and thinner heels than she’d ever wear at work. She put a dab of vanilla behind each ear because she once read a study of scents that turned men on and vanilla was, oddly, at the top of the list. She darkened her eyes, but left the mole above her lip uncovered, recalling how Mulder had kissed it softly one morning and asked where she’d been hiding it. She also left her freckles freely exposed because it somehow made her feel younger and a little more carefree.

 

Mulder showed up at her door with flowers – an assortment of yellow and white daisies that she put in a teapot of water because she didn’t have a vase. He looked like he looked on any average workday, except, for once, his navy blue tie was plain and matched his charcoal grey suit perfectly. His hair was freshly cut, he was freshly shaved and his cologne was obvious, but not overpowering.

 

It was easier than Scully thought it would be to avoid talking about work. She answered questions Mulder asked about her childhood that she never realized he didn’t know about her. She had questions of her own that he answered, smiling warmly when he recalled particularly fond memories he hadn’t thought about in years.

 

They were halfway through coffee and dessert and Mulder was regaling her with a tale about his days at Oxford, when Scully realized that her mind had wandered. It wasn’t that the story didn’t have interest for it, it did, but she started watching the way his mouth moved and it suddenly seemed absolutely unreal to her that those lips had touched nearly every square inch of her body and how did she ever last seven years without knowing what it felt like? How had she lasted three days without his kiss now that she did know?

 

“Scully?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Mulder smiled and his lips twitched as he formed words before he actually spoke. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

 

Scully slowly pressed her fork into the chocolate cake in front of her and took the bite into her mouth, sliding the cake off slowly with her teeth. “How am I looking at you,” she asked, licking chocolate from her lips as she watched his adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat.

 

“Like there isn’t much difference between me and that chocolate cake,” he answered, running a finger along the inside of his collar as though it was suddenly too tight.

 

She laughed lightly and then they sat back and regarded each other quietly. There was a charge in the air and it raised gooseflesh on her arms. She didn’t know that Mulder was in the same boat, watching her in the candlelight, his heart picking up pace every time she smiled.

 

Suddenly, she leaned forward, putting her elbow on the table and turning her head slightly to push her hair back over her ear. “Mulder,” she said, quietly. “If _you_ keep looking at _me_ like that, we won’t make it out the door.”

 

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe you should talk to me about one of your more gruesome autopsies right now. With plenty of detail.”

 

Scully raised her brow and Mulder shifted again. On an impulse that she didn’t even know she possessed, Scully pulled the linen napkin from her lap and set it down on the table next to her plate. She stood, smoothing her hands over her hips and down her thighs to straighten her dress.

 

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table as she waited for a moment or two too long and their eyes held.

 

Trusting their history of unspoken communication, she turned and took the long way through the tables on her way to the bathroom. She’d been in the bathroom earlier when they’d first arrived at the restaurant. There were three stalls, floor to ceiling wooden doors on each. No one would know.

 

Scully opened the door to the bathroom and checked each stall door. They were empty. She leaned over the sink, curling her hands over the porcelain bowl and staring at herself in the mirror in the dim, orange light. Her pupils were dilated to near black. There were dark stains across her cheeks and a rose-tinted blush over her chest. She wet a paper towel and held the cool cloth against her face. Could she do this?

 

There was a soft tapping on the bathroom door and Scully opened it, just enough so Mulder could slip inside. She noticed his suit jacket was off. They stared at each other for mere moments before he was backing her into one of the stalls and throwing the lock. She melted instantly into his kisses, moaning softly as his body pressed hers against the tile wall. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been aroused since he’d shown up at her door, but now it was almost painful.

 

“God, you smell good,” Mulder muttered, dragging his mouth down her neck. She couldn’t help but smile as she made quick work of his belt and zipper. He groaned and his hand slapped the wall when she reached inside his boxers and freed his erection.

 

“Hurry,” she whispered, shifting her knees against him as she shimmied her dress up to her hips.

 

“Slow down,” he murmured, rubbing circles against her bare thighs.

 

“Later.” She shook her head, parting her legs as she moved her underwear to the side. “I want you.”

 

“Scully,” he sighed, sinking into her as she stretched up on her toes to receive him. He cupped the back of her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him, sliding up the wall as he thrust into her.

 

She had one hand curled at the back of his neck and the other on his cheek, thumb under his chin so she could hold his head up to look at her. His eyes were half-open and his lips were parted invitingly. She licked his bottom lip and he groaned an obscenity into her mouth.

 

“Harder,” she whispered to him. “I want to f-”

 

Mulder put a hand over her mouth as the outside door to the bathroom opened. He paused mid-thrust, beads of sweat forming at his temples as Scully clenched her thighs and pulled him deeper purely on accident and by reflex. The doorknob on their stall rattled once and then the next door opened and shut. Scully’s head rolled against the tile wall.

 

One minute passed, then two. Mulder had dropped his forehead to the wall next to hers, panting softly. She squirmed impatiently and clenched around him again. He bit her shoulder to muffle his whimper.

 

Finally, the toilet flushed next door and the door opened and shut again. Water ran in the sink for what felt like an interminable amount of time, but stopped, and they were alone once more and all was quiet. He was close, despite the pause, mostly due to Scully’s restlessness and the undulation of her hips and inner muscles.

 

“So close,” Scully whispered to him. “We’re so close. Almost. Almost.”

 

“I know.” He resumed his thrusts, increasing his intensity more than his speed.

 

Scully gave a soft cry, something like a cross between a yelp and a hiccup, and she pushed her hips towards him even as she pulled his hips towards hers with her calves. He saw stars as he shuddered against her. She kissed him until he slipped out of her and lowered her back to her feet.

 

“It’s a good thing we waited seven years for this,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against hers and running his hands over her body like the last thing in the world he wanted to do was stop touching her.

 

“Why?”

 

“We’d never have gotten any work done.”

 

Scully laughed and brought his head down for more kisses. He pulled away from her, sucking his bottom lip in his mouth and shaking his head.

 

“I need to go get cleaned up,” he said.

 

“I’ll meet you back at the table.”

 

“I’ll pay the check. And then we need to get out of here.”

 

“Go.”

 

Mulder pushed himself away from her and his fingers slipped on the lock as he left the stall. She heard him at the sink and then heard his belt buckle clinking as he rearranged himself. Moments later, the door opened and closed and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to breathe. She cleaned herself up and smoothed her hair in the mirror, assessing her reflection for any signs of what had just happened. There was a certain glow to her skin that she’d never noticed before. She smiled at herself and left the bathroom.

 

The End


	12. You fainted...straight into my arms.

Prompt - “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

 

There wasn’t much time to strategize before Mulder had to leave for Oregon, but they met in Skinner’s office to cover as much information as they could. He stood with Scully at the head of the conference table, his fingertips pressed to the small of her back in reassurance as he leaned over her to point out coordinates on an unrolled map. He looked around at the odd assortment of collaborators. Krycek and Marita flanked the gunmen along the side of the table and Skinner stood, gruff and imposing, on the other end.

 

Suddenly, Scully swayed on her feet, stepping back into Mulder while gripping the table to keep herself upright. He gripped her arms, bending his head over her shoulder to see her face.

 

“Scully?” he asked.

 

“I…” She tried to lift her head, but her eyes rolled back and she went boneless. Mulder caught her as she went down, easing her to the floor and cradling her head just as he’d done a day ago in the Oregon woods.

 

“Scully, can you hear me?” He lifted one of her eyelids with his thumb and then picked up one of her limp hands to check her pulse in her wrist.

 

Skinner was already on the phone calling for an ambulance. The gunmen hovered, giving orders to each other to give her air, get her water, find a pillow. Marita knelt down next to Mulder and put a hand on Scully’s ankle.

 

“Alex,” she said. “Find a blanket.”

 

“Take my coat,” Mulder nodded his head towards the jacket draped over one of Skinner’s chairs and Frohike hurried over to get it.

 

Scully groaned, opening her glassy eyes in confusion? She looked up at Mulder and then all the faces above her and she jerked her shoulders, trying to sit up.

 

“Easy,” Mulder said, keeping her down.

 

“What happened?” she asked.

 

“You fainted,” he answered. “Straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

 

“I…”

 

“Paramedics are on the way up,” Skinner said, and as if on cue, Langley, who had been waiting by the doorway in the hall, ushered two EMTs with a medical kit and a stretcher into the room.

 

“No, I…I don’t…” Scully protested, but Mulder shook his head.

 

“You need to know why this is happening,” he whispered to her. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“But, Oregon…”

 

“Another time.”

 

Mulder held her hand in the ambulance and he held her hand when they let him see her in the exam room after admitting her and running some tests. She had an IV in her arm which she said was for dehydration and told him to just leave because she felt fine, just tired.

 

“Let’s see what the doctor says,” Mulder said. “If she comes back and says you’re fine, I’ll go.”

 

“Will you, really?”

 

“After you’re released and I take you back home and make sure you’ve rested and recovered, I’ll go.”

 

“Mulder.” Scully sighed, but she squeezed his hand. He brought her hand up to his face to kiss her fingers and leaned his cheek against the soft skin on the inside of her arm.

 

The doctor entered the room with a knock and Mulder lowered Scully’s hand back to the bed. She grasped his fingers tightly, betraying her cool exterior with such a nervous grip.

 

“Well, Dana,” the older woman said. “It appears as though congratulations are in order.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Scully said.

 

“You’re pregnant.”

 

Mulder’s eyes widened as he immediately turned his attention from the doctor to Scully. She stared at the doctor, unblinking, eyes watering. “There must be some mistake,” she whispered.

 

“No mistake. Your HGC level is quite obvious. When was your last period?”

 

“Um,” Scully answered, pulling her shaking hand out from Mulder’s and reaching for her chart. “May I see that please?”

 

“We were told we couldn’t conceive,” Mulder explained. He found Scully’s leg and rubbed her knee through the hospital blankets.

 

Scully handed her chart back to the doctor and when she blinked, two tears slipped down her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away. The doctor glanced at Mulder.

 

“I’ll leave you alone for a bit, but I’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”

 

“That’s fine,” Scully said.

 

The doctor left and Scully dropped her head back to the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Mulder continued to rub her knee, trying to contain his excitement for her sake, but the more he thought about it, the bigger his smile grew.

 

“Scully,” he said. “This is what we wanted.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Of course it is. Why else would we have tried so hard?”

 

“I know it’s what I wanted.” Her chin quivered and she put her hand over her eyes. “Things were different.”

 

“Because we weren’t together and now we are? You think that might change things for me?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Scully, look at me.”

 

After a few moments, Scully rubbed the tears away from her eyes and though she kept her hand against her forehead, she turned her wet gaze to Mulder.

 

“Marry me,” Mulder said.

 

Scully let out a sob and a laugh at the same time, shaking her head. “This isn’t the 1950’s, Mulder. There’s no need to be so noble.”

 

Mulder turned away from her and fumbled with the pockets of his jacket, draped on the back of his chair. He pulled a small, velvet box out from his inside pocket and put it in Scully’s hand.

 

“I’ve had this for months,” he said. “I’ve just always lost the nerve.”

 

Scully ran her index finger over the top of the box, afraid to open it. “This is…”

 

“You don’t need to answer right now. My timing sucks, I know, but I want you to know I’m serious. Not just because of the baby…God, Scully, a baby…” He dropped his head down and laid it next to her hip. She sifted her fingers through his hair.

 

“You should be in Oregon right now,” she said.

 

“No, I should be right here.”

 

Scully squeezed the box in her hand and then lifted the top open with her thumb.

 

The End.


	13. We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?

Prompt - “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

 

The atmosphere in the car was thick with tension. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in over an hour. She told herself this was to be the last time she let him talk her into meeting some unknown source in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. A lot had been said and done lately that made being in the same space nearly unbearable. They weren’t even really partners anymore anyway. He didn’t need her for this, even if he said he did.

 

Something had to give here. They’d never been so far apart from each other, not even when they’d first met. She understood his anger and his frustration, she really did, but it was her work too. She had lost just as much and she’d sacrificed just as much and his dismissive attitude towards her could be unforgiveable. She hadn’t decided yet.

 

It began to rain, starting off as small taps on the hood that quickly escalated into a blinding downpour. Lightning split the sky, followed by a growl of thunder. Scully looked out the windshield, but all visibility was lost. She sighed and pulled her trench coat a little tighter as she shifted in her seat.

 

“How much longer are we going to do this?” Scully asked.

 

“Let’s see if the rain lets up,” he answered.

 

“And then what?”

 

“Then we wait.”

 

Scully stared straight ahead. Impulsively, she got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. It was cold and she was instantly drenched, but she didn’t care. She walked up to the front of the car and kept going towards the barrier up ahead that dropped down to the river. She heard Mulder yell her name, but she ignored him. When he caught up with her, he pulled her to a stop by her elbow, wiping rain from his face with his free hand.

 

“Are you crazy?” he yelled. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Can’t do _what_ , Scully?”

 

She blinked the rain out of her eyes and shook her head. “I want you to decide. Her or me.”

 

“Oh come on!” Mulder let Scully’s arm go and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Not this again.”

 

“Don’t do that!” Scully screamed. “Diana and I are on opposing sides and I don’t know why you continue to ignore what’s happening under your nose. I’m tired of you dismissing my judgment or trying to insult me by calling it personal. I have put as much of my life into the X-Files as you have and I need answers as much as you do. So you need to decide, right now, her or me. Who do you trust?”

 

“That’s not fair!”

 

“Is it fair that you’ve been searching for a missing girl for 20 years? Is it fair that my sister is dead or your father or my daughter? Is it fair that the only reason I’m not dead of cancer is a metal implant that I’m supposed to trust is keeping me alive? Is it fair that after spending six years defending you, supporting you, watching your back, fixing your mistakes, and healing your wounds, someone you used to know can waltz in and erase everything we’ve been through by simply batting her eyelashes? Fuck fair!”

 

Mulder swayed backwards on his feet like he’d just been slapped. He grabbed Scully’s shoulders in a tight grip, squeezing hard, nostrils flaring. It hurt, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shake her, but he relaxed his fingers and swallowed several times.

 

“I called you tonight,” he said. “I didn’t call anyone else. Just you.”

 

“It’s not like you had much of a choice. She didn’t leave a forwarding address when she disappeared this time.”

 

“Then why do I need to choose between you and someone who isn’t even here anymore?”

 

Scully shrugged her shoulders free from Mulder’s grip and stepped back. “Because I don’t want to be here by default, only because she isn’t. And if she returned tomorrow, I need to know where I stand.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Scully lowered her head and her wet hair slipped down and clung to her cheeks. She pushed it back over her ears, nodding at Mulder’s muddy shoes. It was only less than a year ago when he was begging her to stay with him in the hallway of his apartment. _I need you on this with me, Scully. You kept me honest. You made me a whole person_.

 

“I guess I have your answer then,” Scully said.

 

He turned away from her and stood with his hands on his hips. She shivered, feeling the cold for the first time and noticing she could see her breath. She remembered arguing with Mulder in a rain like this on their first case in an Oregon cemetery, sparring with him about the ridiculousness of a comatose teenager being able to sleepwalk through the woods at night and dissolving into laughter over the absurdity of it all. _Agent Mulder, I am standing in the rain and the mud…_

It would never be possible to get back to that place where he spent his time trying to impress her and she was a little bit enamored of him. All of that was lost between abductions and clones and cancer and little girls with green blood. She wasn’t naïve enough to think they’d be partners for eternity, but she never imagined they’d reach a point where they couldn’t even be friends.

 

She felt Mulder’s hand on her back. “We need to get out of the rain,” he said, leading her back to the car. She was shivering uncontrollably by the time they made it back. Mulder turned the heat on full blast and she held her hands up to the vents. She had a flash of a memory of him zipping her into a sleeping bag in front of a space heater on the floor of an Antarctic research trailer. Last summer he was willing to track her down on the other end of the world, but tonight she wasn’t even sure he’d cross the street for her. Her nose stung and her eyes burned and her throat tightened.

 

“I’d like to apologize,” Mulder said. “For being the world’s biggest jackass and for making you think that I don’t appreciate everything that you’ve been through and what you’ve done for me, because I do. So much more than I can ever put into words. I choose you. Even if we don’t get the X-Files back, I choose you.”

 

Scully let out a small sob and then sucked in her breath, trying to hide it. Mulder’s hand slid behind her neck and he pulled her closer while leaning across the seat so his forehead rested against her temple. This was how he liked to ask for her forgiveness, by bowing his head and waiting for her to absolve him, and he would stay like that until she gave it to him. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain, undecided.

 

The End


	14. "Have you lost your damn mind!?”

Prompt - "Have you lost your damn  _mind_!?”

 

Scully opened the file folder Mulder gave her and closed it immediately. “Mulder,” she said, exasperation clear in her voice. “Have you lost your damn _mind_!?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Petty theft is not an X-File.”

 

“You didn’t even read it!”

 

“I don’t have to. Mulder, we just got the X-Files back and you know there are people waiting for this office to fail. We need something more substantial right now to keep them off our back.” She waved the manila folder in her hand. “This is a matter for local PD, not the FBI. Look, it’s been a rough year for both of us and…and I swear to God if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to strangle you!”

 

Mulder had sat back in his chair while Scully went off on her little rant, trying hard not to laugh out loud so that an amused grin was on his face the whole time. He twirled a pencil in his hand, letting her run off at the mouth for a bit.

 

“Well,” he said, standing and snatching the file out of her hand. “Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll just cancel your ticket. I’ll bring you back a souvenir though. You like macadamia nuts?”

 

“Macadamia nuts?”

 

“Looks like I’m headed to Hawaii by myself.”

 

“Hawaii!?” Scully snatched the file back from Mulder and opened it again.

 

“Ever heard of the Menehune, Scully?”

 

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

 

“Well, they’re like a more benevolent leprechaun, and according to Hawaiian legend, they’re master builders, subsisting on a diet of bananas and fish.”

 

“And so the locals believe that ancient Hawaiian leprechauns are now responsible for a rash of stolen tools and food? This is what you want to investigate?”

 

“Someone should. Don’t you think?” Mulder came out from behind his desk and sat down on the corner in front of Scully. He touched her elbow to get her attention and she closed the file again to look at him. “You’re right, it has been a rough year.”

 

“You’ll never get this approved.”

 

“Already done,” he answered, reaching back and waving a signed form in her face. He slid off the desk and squeezed her hip. “Flight leaves in two hours. Be sure to pack a swimsuit. Preferably two piece.”

 

Scully smacked him in the chest with the file and shoved him back down to the desk.

 

“And if you’re lucky,” he said. “I’ll let you put sunscreen on my back.”

 

“Lucky me,” she replied, stepping closer between his legs and speaking low into his ear. “How about this? If you remember to behave yourself, and if promise to find us an actual X-File when we get back, I’ll let you put sunscreen on my front.” She stepped back and put her hand under his chin to close his mouth that had dropped open.

 

“I estimate it’ll take at least a week to crack this particular case. Keep that in mind while you pack.”

 

“See you at the airport.”

 

“I was serious about the bikini!” he called to her as she walked out the door.

 

The End


	15. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Prompt - "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

 

The bar was nearly empty, which wasn’t surprising given that the population of the small town in Oklahoma probably wouldn’t even put the place at capacity. Its proximity to a truck stop down the street led Scully to believe the clientele was rarely local. The interior reminded her of a log cabin, converted into a business just by installing a counter and a mishmash of tables and chairs. The floor was covered in peanut shells, and she didn’t have to stop to wonder why since her and Mulder’s beers were presented to them with a large bowl of nuts. The only other two patrons at the counter were cracking nuts from their own bowls and tossing the shells over their shoulders.

 

“Cheers,” Mulder said, tapping a peanut against one Scully took out of the bowl and split it open with his thumb and index finger. She took her beer by the neck and tapped the bottom against Mulder’s bottle.

 

The jukebox in the corner was playing All Shook Up when they walked in and Don’t Be Cruel started up after it finished, followed by Blue Suede Shoes. If Scully hadn’t been the one that suggested they take a walk over to the bar after wrapping up their case, she would’ve thought Mulder had snuck over with a bag of quarters and loaded all the Elvis songs he could find.

 

Mulder was a contemplative drinker. He scratched at the label of his bottle, watched the room around him, and cracked peanuts with one hand. Scully let him have his silence and waited for the right time to talk to him about why she asked him to come out. The opportunity came when he ordered his second beer.

 

“Want another?” Mulder asked.

 

“Not yet.”

 

The bartender swapped Mulder’s empty bottle for a new one and Mulder took a drink. He dumped a scoop of peanuts into their waning bowl before he walked away and Mulder leaned over the counter in curiosity.

 

“There’s a big barrel of nuts down there,” he said.

 

“Mulder, I want to talk to you about something.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Scully dragged her finger through a ring of condensation on the counter, left behind from her beer bottle, painting another ring surrounding it. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

 

“Look at you how?”

 

“Like I might break at any moment. Like you’re waiting for it to happen.”

 

“Scully, I…”

 

“It’s okay.” She gently laid her hand over his forearm. “But, I need you to understand that what’s going to happen is inevitable. Neither one of us is going to be able to stop it, and when the time comes, I need you to remember that you did everything you could.”

 

Mulder put his hand over his face, propping his head up with his elbow. He shook his head slightly. “I don’t believe that. There has to be something. I’m not giving up.”

 

“I’m not asking you to. I know it won’t stop you anyway, but I’m just telling you, when the time comes…please promise me you won’t blame yourself.”

 

“How could I not?” he whispered.

 

“Mulder…”

 

“This is too morbid. I don’t want to talk about this.” Suddenly he stood, shaking his arms and hands out. He took her hand and tried to tug her to her feet.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Dance?”

 

“Oh, come on,” she protested, shaking her head. She tuned her ear to the music and blushed. I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You was playing.

 

“Please?”

 

Reluctantly, Scully got to her feet and Mulder pulled her close, sliding one hand around her waist while she put her hand on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand as they swayed awkwardly for a few moments, and then they both had to chuckle as peanut shells crunched under their feet.

 

“How romantic,” he said, and she smiled up at him. He pressed his hand to her back and encouraged her to lay her head on his chest. Their joined hands came to rest against his shoulder. Her other hand slipped down his spine to his lower back.

 

Before the song ended, Scully abruptly pulled away from Mulder, searching the counter for a napkin with her hand cupped under her chin. It was a very unfortunate moment for a nosebleed.

 

The End


	16. Tell me a secret

Prompt - "Tell me a secret"

 

Scully flipped the lights on in Mulder’s office, calling his name in confusion.  She was only a few minutes early and usually Mulder was already in, ready and waiting with his latest slideshow presentation, but the office was empty.  She set her laptop case on the table she’d made her own and hooked up her computer to check her messages.

 

About fifteen minutes later, Mulder strolled in, a plastic bag under his arm, which he looked like he was trying to hide.  “Oh, hey Scully,” he said, opening the bottom drawer of his desk.  Very quickly, he dropped the bag inside and closed the drawer as he fidgeted in his seat.

 

“New video?” she teased, giving a pointed look towards the bottom of his desk from across the room.  She saw his cheeks darken and he smoothed his tie down his chest as he cleared his throat.

 

“No,” he said.  “I mean, yeah.  Yes.  New video.”

 

Scully raised a brow and went back to her email.  Obviously, Mulder was lying, but he also seemed flustered, so she let it pass.  Whatever it was, it was none of her business.  She typed away, ignoring the squeak of Mulder’s chair as he restlessly shifted around.

 

“Scully?” he asked.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Tell me a secret.  About yourself.”

 

“What?” she asked, turning in her seat to look at him.  “Why?”

 

“Because…I’m about to tell you one, and I need…collateral.”

 

“No.”  She turned back around, and then heard Mulder open his desk and the crinkling sound of plastic.  He was clearly trying to be enticing, but she ignored him.

 

“I’ll tell you what’s in the bag,” he said.  “If you just tell me one tiny secret.”

 

She stopped typing and then turned around again.  “How about you _show_ me what’s in the bag, and tell me why it’s a secret, and then I’ll return a secret of equal or lesser value.”

 

Mulder took a moment to consider and then he got up and held his hand out to her.  “Deal,” he said, and she slid her hand into his to shake on it.  He hesitated and then pulled a book out of the bag and handed it to her.

 

“It’s a book,” she said, turning it over to inspect it at all angles.  The cover was dark blue with a picture of a bare-chested man embracing a woman with long blonde hair.  The castle in the background and the attire, or lack thereof, of the couple, clearly set the story in medieval times.

 

“Yeah.  It’s book four in a series.”

 

“Is your big secret that you read romance novels?”  She asked jokingly, still turning the book over and flipping through the pages, waiting for something to fall out or for the real reason he had it to reveal itself.

 

“She’s a really good author.”

 

Scully held still and then she looked up at Mulder, searching his face for signs of a joke.  He had a stoic look about him and the muscle in the back of his jaw pulsed with the clenching of his teeth.

 

“The secret you want to tell me is that you read romance novels?” she asked again, this time in all seriousness.

 

“Mostly it’s historical fiction, it just also happens to…”  

 

“…to be a romance novel.”

 

He shrugged a little, but then pulled out a flyer from his inside pocket and handed it to her.  The same author photo on the back of the book was on the flyer and it announced a book signing that night at a small, independent book store on G Street.

 

“I was thinking,” he said.  “I’d like to go, but…I might feel a little out of place if I went alone.  So, um…if you aren’t busy tonight…”

 

“You want me to get this signed for you?”

 

“I would go with you, I just…”

 

“Mulder.”  She bit the inside of her cheek so as not to laugh, but she couldn’t suppress her smile.  “You’re telling me you’ll crawl through an escalator shaft to chase a liver-eating man, and wade through sewage searching for a man-sized flukeworm without giving either a second thought, but you’re afraid of a romance novelist?”

 

“Nevermind,” he mumbled, taking the book back from her and putting it back in the bag.

 

“I’ll go,” she quickly answered, closing her hand over his wrist and giving it a squeeze.  “I’ve got your back.”

 

“Thanks, Scully.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“You still owe me a secret, though.”

 

She sniffed in response and pinched the tip of his tie between two fingers, giving it a little tug.  “The secret is, ask me nicely, Mulder, and I’ll probably do just about anything.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

She turned back to her computer and then flashed him a glance over her shoulder.  “Or maybe I just find guys who read romance novels irresistible.”

 

The End


	17. “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

**Prompt - “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”**

 

**It was two in the morning, and instead of living in the land of nod, Mulder was stretched out in a lawn chair at the front of the house, peacefully basking in the dazzling display of the Perseid meteor shower. It was a clear night, and the stars twinkled as streaks of light dashed across the sky at rapid speed. A few dozen crickets called to each other from across the field and through the trees.**

**The stillness of the night was suddenly broken by the appearance of headlights, and Mulder sat up in his chair, tensing. He relaxed a bit when he saw Scully behind the wheel, but he didn’t know what to make of it. The car approached quickly and then slid to a stop, kicking up dust and gravel. Scully jumped out and her little dog leapt out after her. She swiftly made her way towards the porch, Daggoo at her heels.**

**“Scully?” Mulder called. Obviously she hadn’t seen him in the chair when she pulled up.**

**“Mulder!” she gasped.**

**Daggoo barked and bounded towards Mulder, taking a moment to sniff the perimeter of the lawn chair before jumping up into his lap and licking his face. Scully stomped through the field grass and though he couldn’t see her clearly in the dark, he could tell she was in pajamas and her hair was messy. Like she fled home in a hurry.**

**“What’s wrong?” Mulder asked.**

**“What’s wrong?” she repeated. “You didn’t answer your phone!”**

**“I hardly ever answer my phone. That’s never brought you all the way out here before.” He reached up and grasped her hands, moving his legs so she could sit down by his knees. He could feel her trembling and see her nostrils flaring with her adrenaline-fueled breathing.**

**“I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said, quietly.**

**Mulder rubbed the inside of her palm and wrist with his thumb and she closed her eyes with a sigh. He hugged Daggoo to his chest with his free arm and scooted over in the chair. With a tug on Scully’s hand, he brought her down to lie against his side and she rested her head on his shoulder.**

**“What was the nightmare about?” he asked.**

**“The end of the world, I think. A contagion. Everyone was dying.”**

**“Did you watch Outbreak before you went to bed?”**

**“What are you doing outside?” she whispered. There were tears in her voice. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”**

**He ran his finger under her chin. “Look up.”**

**“Oh!” she gasped. “Wow.”**

**“Make a wish.”**

**“That’s just a myth.”**

**“Well, I wished you were here to see this. And now you are.”**

**The End**


	18. That isn't appropriate

**Prompt - “That isn’t appropriate.”**

**Scully took the small binoculars that Mulder passed her and pointed them at the dark windows of the house across the street. It had been an hour since they were parked and no signs of activity were apparent in any part of the house. She lowered the binoculars and offered them to Mulder, but he shook his head, snapping open a sunflower seed with his teeth. The cup holder between them was full of empty shells.**

**“What do you want to do, Scully?” Mulder asked.**

**“Do?”**

**“Bates isn’t showing tonight.”**

**“It’s only been an hour, Mulder.” She raised the binoculars back to her eyes again.**

**“He won’t show. Want to play twenty questions?”**

**“Not really.”**

**“Truth or dare?”**

**Scully moved the binoculars an inch from her face and glanced over at Mulder. “That isn’t appropriate.”**

**“Says who?”**

**“Says everyone I’ve ever played truth or dare with.”**

**Mulder raised his brows and cracked another seed open. “Sounds like you have some stories. Care to share with the class?”**

**Without a word, Scully pulled the lenses back to her eyes and scanned the house. She knew Mulder was right. Bates would never show tonight. This assignment was a joke.**

**“How about just one round?” Mulder asked.**

**“One round of what?”**

**“Truth or dare. I’ll even let you go first.”**

**Scully sighed and dropped the binoculars to her lap.**

**“Come on, Scully. When this is all over, I’ll get you a shirt that says ‘I Survived My First Stakeout With Mulder and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.”**

**She snorted. “Fine, Mulder. Truth or dare?”**

**“Dare.”**

**“I dare you not to eat another sunflower seed for as long as we’re out here.”**

**“Damn,” Mulder said, and she chuckled. He discarded a shell into the cupholder and sighed. “Truth or dare?”**

**“Truth.”**

**After a few moments of pulling at his bottom lip, Mulder looked over at her. “Are you a spy?”**

**“I’m here to give the x-files validity, through science, to justify the expenditure.”**

**“And if science, as you know it, doesn’t apply, wouldn’t that invalidate the work itself? Make it unjustified?”**

**“If it was my assignment to shut down the x-files, as you seem to think it is, I could’ve done it as soon as we got back from Bellefleur with next to nothing to show for it. I know it’s hard for you to believe, Mulder, but I have just as much interest in getting answers and solving these cases as you do.”**

**Mulder stared out the window of the driver’s side and then he looked down at his lap. “It isn’t easy for me to trust people,” he said, quietly.**

**“Eat your sunflower seeds, Mulder.” She raised the binoculars once again and waited for the crack of splitting shells in the silence. “You better have that t-shirt for me tomorrow.”**

**“I’ll put in a rush order in the morning.”**

**The End**


	19. You know, it's okay to cry

**Prompt - “You know, it’s okay to cry.”**

**Mulder sat hunched over on his couch with his head hanging low. His arms were braced on his thighs and his hands dangled limply between his knees. He was finally back at home after weeks in the desert. Being drugged, shot (by ones’ partner, no less), nearly burned alive in an abandoned boxcar, and going through a spirit walk to be brought back from the brink of death really took a lot out of a guy.**

**There was a knock on the door, but he didn’t move. He knew the cadence of knock well enough to know it was Scully. Three raps in quick succession. He knew that she knew he was home, so it was only a matter of time before she used her key. Sure enough, only a minute passed and the door opened.**

**She stood before him in jeans and sneakers. He wondered when she found the time to go home and put on casual clothes. Didn’t he just see her?**

**“I brought you something to eat,” she said. “Do you mind if I turn on a light?”**

**“I’m not hungry,” he answered.**

**She turned on the lamp on his desk and then stood in front of him again. Her fingers skimmed through his hair and over the back of his neck. It made him drowsy and he wished she were just a little closer so he could lean against her.**

**“You know, it’s okay to cry.”**

**Mulder’s shoulders shook with his sudden laughter and then he put his hands to his face and shook his head. “That is, without a doubt, the exact opposite of what my dad would say to me right now,” he said, leaning back against the couch. “Tears never solved anyone’s problems.”**

**“Well, no. Crying isn’t a direct solution to a problem, but your body produces toxins and stress hormones when you’re upset that excrete themselves through tears. It also stimulates the production of endorphins.”**

**“I never said I agreed with him. I just don’t know if I’m ready to feel better yet.”**

**“Why not?”**

**Mulder shrugged and Scully sat down next to him. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. She scooted closer so their shoulders touched and leaned against him.**

**“If for some reason,” she said, “you don’t think you deserve to feel better, you’re wrong.”**

**A tight knot formed in Mulder’s throat and he tried to swallow it away, but it grew tighter and pinched his airway. He tried not to, but he let loose a sob that pitched him forward. Scully’s hand traveled up and down his back.**

**“I feel like a failure, Scully.”**

**“You’re not a failure, Mulder.”**

**How wrong she was. His sister was still lost. His father was dead. Krycek was still out there somewhere. Scully was still missing three months of her life. He could cry until he was dry, but he knew he would never really feel better.**

**The End**

 


	20. Does he know about the baby?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SAD DRABBLE IS SAD

**Prompt - "Does he know about the baby?"**

**The first day, Scully kept the door to the room closed.**

**The second day, she opened the door, but she didn’t go inside.**

**The third day, she sat on the floor, sobbing in the middle of the room, holding a small, knit cap to her nose because it smelled like him and she missed his smell desperately.**

**The fourth day, she called Goodwill and asked when they would be available to pick up donations.**

**The fifth day, she filled a trash bag with the things that couldn’t be donated. A half empty bottle of baby shampoo. Baby Tylenol. Baby powder. Diaper cream. An aspirator. Pacifiers. Open jars of baby food.**

**The sixth day, she collected boxes from a grocery store outside of her neighborhood and packed the rest. Clothes, mostly. Bedding. Sealed jars of baby food. The stars and moon mobile. A frog-shaped humidifier. Bath toys.**

**The seventh day, she dismantled the crib. She had just finished taking the bottom apart when there was a knock on the door. Her heart stopped. It was too early. They weren’t supposed to be there to pick up all the boxes and the furniture for another two hours. Fighting tears, she laid down her screwdriver and answered the door. She didn’t know if she was annoyed or relieved that Monica had dropped by unannounced.**

**“I haven’t heard from you,” Monica said. “I wanted to see how you were.”**

**“I’m fine,” Scully answered.**

**“Do you need help with anything?”**

**“I have to finish taking apart…” She stopped and blinked, licking her lips as she tried to swallow, but couldn’t.**

**“Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”**

**Scully nodded and Monica followed her back to the disassembled nursery. She felt Monica’s eyes on her as she loosened the remaining screws that held the frame of the crib in place. Together, they stacked the pieces against the wall.**

**“I didn’t move the boxes out,” Scully said. “I should put the boxes by the door.”**

**“Okay.”**

**They moved the boxes together, one by one, out into the foyer. When they had moved all but two, Monica had grabbed the unlabeled box sitting on the dresser.**

**“No!” Scully cried.**

**The unlabeled box was hers. It didn’t contain his favorite monkey or his favorite blanket or the plastic keys he loved to chew on – those had been in the last diaper bag she would ever pack – but it contained a few of her favorite things. The blue onesie he wore when she brought him home. His first teething ring. A soft brush she’d never really gotten to use on him because he hadn’t managed to grow more than a few wispy, fuzzy hairs. A bib. The heirloom doll Mulder had given her. A photo album.**

**Scully hugged the box to her chest and began to cry. Monica led her out of the room and sat her down on the couch before she grabbed a box of tissues and joined her.**

**“Dana?” Monica asked. “What can I do?”**

**“I need Mulder,” Scully whispered.**

**“Do you know where he is? Does he…does he know about the baby?”**

**Scully shook her head. “The last emails bounced back months ago. And since the gunmen…”**

**“We’ll find him.”**

**“I don’t know if I want to look. I wouldn’t know what to say.”**

**Scully opened the flaps of the box and took out the photo album. The first photo was of Mulder holding William. The only photo she had of them together. If only they’d known that it would be the last time Mulder would see his son.**

**Eight days ago, Scully had a lot of last times. She gave her son a bath for the last time. She tickled his toes while she put him in his pajamas for the last time. She rocked him to sleep for the last time and she listened to him babble “umumumum” for the last time, only she didn’t try to encourage him to say “Mama,” for once. If he’d said it for the first time, and that was the only time she would hear it, it would haunt her forever.**

**She put the album back in the box. It would be the last time she would open it for a very long time.**

**The End**


	21. “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”

**Prompt - “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”**

**She couldn’t move. Not because she was bound by anything – she could tell her hands and feet were free – but she couldn’t move. She screamed at herself inside her brain to just move a finger or a toe, to open her eyes, but nothing worked.**

**In the darkness, she could hear breathing other than her own, close to her ear, deep and slow. A weight – not heavy, not light – settled on the small of her back and traveled up her spine, pinning her down. Her chest ached as her heart tried to escape her body, beating so rapidly she thought it would break through her sternum and fly away.**

**She heard the hiss of a snake and felt the flutter of its tongue against her cheek. The cold rope of its body slithered across her shoulders and wove itself around and around and around her body. It squeezed. Hard. Harder. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen.**

**“You’re the one that got away,” the snake hissed. “Girly girl.”**

**Move, she screamed. Move. Move. Move!**

**“Scully?”**

**She jerked once, tense all over. Her muscles were back in her control, but all she could do was open her eyes. A blanket was clutched to her chest. Mulder’s face swam above her. Her eyes rolled back. It could be a trick of the serpent.**

**Hands were on her face. They stroked her hair. Squeezed her shoulders. “Breathe, Scully. Look at me - just breathe, okay?”**

**She opened her eyes again. Her vision was out of focus. She opened her mouth and filled her lungs with a deep breath.**

**“That’s it. In. Out. In. Out.”**

**“Mulder?”**

**“Whatever it was, it was just a dream. You’re okay.” He eased the blanket out of her fingers and took her hands, rubbing the tension out of them.**

**Little by little, she began to relax. Her eyes drifted around the dim room. She remembered Mulder taking her out of her apartment and bringing her to his. She remembered watching him change the sheets from a slate grey to a plaid flannel. She remembered a light exploding and her gun smoking and Donnie Pfaster dead at her feet.**

**She started to shiver. “Cold,” she whispered.**

**Mulder put a hand against her forehead and she closed her eyes.**

**“Will you lay with me?” she asked.**

**She heard his shoes thump against the floor as he kicked them off and then felt him crawl over her. His chest pressed up against her back and his arm came down over her so that she felt like she was wrapped in a warm, safe cocoon. She drifted back into sleep and when she heard the snake hiss in her ear again, she wasn’t afraid.**

**You can’t hurt me, serpent. He won’t let you.**

**The End**


	22. “Promise me you will come back….. I need you to promise me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post IWtB drabble

**Prompt - “Promise me you will come back….. I need you to promise me.”**

**Mulder watched her get into the car and drive away. He felt uneasy about the way she was leaving. It seemed as though their status was still left unresolved. His chest hurt and his stomach turned. He had been shocked and angry and hurt when she told him if he continued to pursue the case, she wouldn’t be coming home, but he didn’t think it held any reality. Now, the reality was, he simply wasn’t sure.**

**Quickly, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. He could still see her car, ambling down the dirt road towards the gate. His heart was racing and he felt out of breath.**

**“Stop the car,” Mulder said, as soon as she picked up.**

**The taillights lit up as the car made an abrupt stop, kicking up a cloud of dust all around it. “Mulder?” she questioned, obvious panic in her voice.**

**“Promise me you will come back…I need you to promise me.”**

**“Mulder, I have to get to the hospital.”**

**“I know. I’m not asking you to stay, I’m just asking you to promise me you’ll be back.”**

**“You have your identity back now, Mulder.”**

**“So?”**

**“So, you don’t have to stay.”**

**“Are you kidding me, Scully?”**

**Silence. Nothing to hear but the idling of the engine in the distance. He felt a painful thud low in his abdomen like he’d just been punched in the gut. He wanted to move, go to the car and pull her out so she could say that to his face, but his legs trembled. Why was it so easy to trek to the ends of the world for one another but so hard to walk a few hundred feet?**

**“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I was too arrogant to believe that you would walk away from me, but you’ve always been so much stronger than I have so I should’ve known and now I’m scared. You were right. We are two people who come to a home now, but I know damn well you weren’t talking about this house. I don’t care where we are, _you_ are my home. You are…You…”**

**The car door opened and Scully stepped out, one hand on the hood and the other on the window frame. He put one foot in front of the other, taking small steps towards her, but then he shoved his phone into his pocket and started jogging, then running.**

**“Mulder?” she murmured, just as he reached her, just as he slid his hands into her hair and crushed his mouth against hers.**

**The kiss wasn’t delicate or gentle, but it was quick. He tore his lips away as she whimpered and grabbed onto his shoulders for balance.**

**“You’re the other half of me,” he whispered, holding her so close that his lips still brushed hers as he spoke. “The better half, I know.”**

**“Mulder.”**

**“Watching you drive away I felt like I couldn’t breathe because it’s the first time I’ve had to wonder if I would see you again.”**

**“Stop,” she whispered, moving her head back and placing two fingers against his mouth. “I promise.”**

**He buried his face against her neck and hugged her, shuddering with relief. Her nails gently scratched his scalp and neck and she rubbed his back with her other hand.**

**“I have to go,” she said.**

**“I know.” He loosened his arms and lifted his head, but not before he placed another lingering kiss to her lips. “I’ll get the gate for you.”**

**“It’ll be a long walk back.”**

**“I don’t mind.”**

**Scully got back into the car and Mulder walked ahead to the front gate. He unlocked the chain and pushed it open so she could drive through. Her window was down and as she passed, she put her arm out and stopped the car. He clasped her hand with both of his and bent to kiss her knuckles.**

**“I’ll call you when I get out of surgery,” she said.**

**“Good luck.” He let go and she reached up, briefly, to touch his cheek, thumb glancing across his mouth.**

**She drove away and he watched her until she became a speck in the distance before he closed the gate.**

**The End**


	23. If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post all things. The morning after.

Prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”

 

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. He came out of sleep, arms moving to hold her, only to find empty space and cold sheets. For a few moments, he wondered if it had all been a dream, but he could smell her, smell them, and the strands of red hair on the pillow beside him told him otherwise.

 

“Scully?” he called.

 

The whispering click of the ceiling fan was the only reply.

 

They arrived at work at nearly the same time. She was only two minutes behind him off the elevator, looking sinfully exquisite in her tailored suit. That morning, as he was tying his tie, his fingers actually ached to touch her again, and they began to ache again. Why wouldn’t they? They knew what she felt like now. Every curve and angle was mapped by his hands, or mouth, but there was still more exploration to be had. A lifetime worth, he was sure.

 

“Good morning,” he said, watching her closely, looking for clues to assess her mood.

 

“Good morning,” she answered, and licked the side of her mouth, not a good sign. She unconsciously licked the side of her mouth when she was nervous or trying to calm herself down. Her eyes flickered up towards his only briefly as she set her laptop case on her table.

 

She brushed slipshod strands of hair back over her ear as she leaned over to boot up her computer and he stared at the porcelain column of her neck, scrutinizing her pale skin for the purple blush of marked territory. He had tried to be careful, but his mouth fit too perfectly in the dip above her clavicle. There was nothing though, no sign that anyone had been there.

 

“Forensics is posting a new department head at Quantico,” she said. The computer’s blue glow illuminated her face as she scrolled through her email.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Beginning of May.”

 

“Did you apply?”

 

Scully turned her head towards him and looked at him for the first time that morning. Her brows came close together and her eyes narrowed into thin slits.

 

“Why would I do that?” she asked. “Why would you think I would do that and not tell you?”

 

He put his hands up, palms out, and leaned back in his chair. “You could be telling me now. I don’t know.”

 

Her tongue darted out and swept down her upper lip before she turned back to face the computer. At least she had looked at him. Spoke to him. He was beginning to think she might just ignore him all day.

 

“Would you like me to?” she asked, her voice very low and controlled.

 

“I think it matters more what you want to do.”

 

“No, I won’t be applying.”

 

“All right.”

 

“I only brought it up because we ask for a lot of favors. I’ll have to make the connections once the role is fulfilled.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Her head jerked a little in acknowledgment. She continued checking her email in silence, back ramrod straight and shoulders tense. So different from last night when she was loose and pliant, under him, over him, wrapped all around him. Her fingers tapped on her keyboard with quick brutality.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He heard, “I’m regretful.”

 

Smoothing his tie down his chest, he got up and moved around his desk. With hesitation he’d never felt with her before, he laid his hand down on her shoulder and she jumped in her chair, fingers stilling instantly.

 

“If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so,” he said. “Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”

 

Her shoulders rose and fell under his hand three times before she stood and whipped around to face him. Her gaze was absolutely captivating. He expected anger, but what he got was a clear blue sky on a summer’s day. They stared at each other – he looking down, she looking up.

 

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” she said.

 

“Why did you?”

 

“Because…if I hadn’t, we’d probably be late for work.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I know you, Mulder. And I know how persuasive you can be.”

 

“And I know you, Scully. You can only be persuaded to do what you want to do in the first place.”

 

“Exactly,” she whispered, her lashes lowering slightly so that her eyes fell to his lips.

 

She licked her mouth for the third time that morning and it was all he could do not to follow her tongue back into her mouth with his own. His head began to move towards her, but she put her hand on his chest, stumbling back a little against the table. He grabbed her hips reflexively and she sucked in a breath.

 

“There have to be boundaries,” she said. “Here. At work.”

 

“Everyone already thinks…”

 

“Yes, they think. They don’t _know_. Knowing makes all the difference.”

 

He reluctantly took a step back from her, but his hands were slow to slide away from her hips. It wasn’t a new feeling, wanting to pull her close, but being forced to resist. Only now he knew what he was missing.

 

“All right,” he said. “You’re right. I just wanted to hear you say you didn’t regret…”

 

“God, no,” she breathed out, shaking her head. “No.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Scully closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. “Of course you thought…Mulder, I’m sorry.”

 

“Tell me there’s opportunity for a repeat performance and I’ll forgive you anything.”

 

She gave a short huff and said nothing, but her eyes twinkled. He made a move to go back to his desk, but she caught the cuff of his jacket with her fingers and he turned back to her with a questioning look.

 

“Maybe just once,” she whispered, reaching up and taking his face in her hands. She kissed him lightly, eyes still open, on her tiptoes. Moments later, her arms were around his neck, her tongue was reacquainting itself with his and she was making tiny squeaking noises as he pressed her hips into her computer table with his own.

 

They broke apart, panting heavily. He dropped his forehead down to hers and rolled the ends of her hair between his fingers.

 

“For the record,” he said, “I wasn’t the one doing the persuading there.”

 

“For the record, I didn’t have to do much.”

 

“I can pretty much guarantee you never will.”

 

The End


	24. It's been a long day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accepting David's MaSMtW headcanon from the season 10 DVD commentary  
> "I thought you were going to tell me to run a bath, you'll be right in."

“It’s been a long day, Mulder,” she said, pausing and lowering her eyes for a moment. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

 

He felt a stab of disappointment, remembering all the creative ways they used to blow off steam together after a long day and none of them involved sleeping alone. He nodded at her though because he understood that was then and this was now. He turned to walk away, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

 

“Mulder?” she said, and he turned back towards her. She had already returned to slicing and dicing and she didn’t look up. “I’m almost done here. Why don’t you run a bath and I’ll be there soon.”

 

He held his breath, not quite believing what he’d just heard. After a few moments of his silence, she took a glance at him but he couldn’t see her eyes behind the reflection in her glasses. He cleared his throat and nervously jangled the keys in his pocket.

 

“Are you serious, Scully?”

 

“I’m serious, Mulder. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can get done here.”

 

“Okay.” He nodded again and taking a chance, stepped up close to her and put a hand on her hip. He didn’t kiss her, even though he wanted to, he simply put his face against her hair and she inclined her head slightly towards him.

 

“Go,” she said.

 

“I’m going. I’ll see you soon.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 


	25. The power went out, it’s not the end of the world. // I’ll buy you a new one, just stop pouting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime during season 10

 

She was no longer accustomed to being on the road, staying in ramshackle motels in towns that probably weren’t even big enough to put on a map. But, here they were in…where were they again? Somewhere in Wyoming in a place so small she was pretty sure she met the entire population, all 15 of them, inside of an hour. She and Mulder were there to investigate, of all things, a Bigfoot sighting.

 

It only took half a day for the story to unravel and they figured out pretty quickly that Bigfoot was nothing more than a few high schoolers from 30 miles away taking turns dressing in a gorilla suit and running through the woods to scare the locals. No sasquatches were to be found, but at least they’d probably prevented a teenager from getting shot by a trigger-happy cowboy who wouldn’t have fired first and asked questions later if it had gone on much longer.

 

The motel in town had probably existed since the gold rush for all it offered. No Wi-fi, rotary phones, and black and white televisions still running on antennas, which of course, were inoperable. They could have driven to Cheyenne for the night, but heavy rains were due and neither felt like trying to navigate unfamiliar, unlit roads in the dark and during a storm.

 

Scully knew it was only a matter of time before Mulder came knocking on her door. No computer and no TV meant he’d probably be stir crazy within five minutes. She had to hand it to him though, more than an hour passed and she was able to read the novel she’d brought with her for the plane in relative peace. In fact, she’d been more distracted by the howling wind and rain that pelted her windows and hadn’t heard a peep from Mulder’s room since the pipes from his shower shuddered and went silent.

 

Suddenly, the lamp light flickered and went black. She waited a few moments, but the darkness prevailed. Blindly marking her page in her book, she felt for her phone on the nightstand and tried to send Mulder a text, but there was no reception and the message failed. Sighing, she illuminated the flashlight on her phone and found her shoes.

 

As soon as she opened the door, Scully was battered with rain. The wind made it hard to pull her door closed, but she secured it and ran to Mulder’s room to bang on his door. If only they had connecting rooms, she wouldn’t be on his doorstep getting drenched while he took his time letting her in.

 

“Scully?” he asked, ushering her inside, genuine surprise in his voice. His pocket flashlight was turned on and sitting on his nightstand, pointed up at the ceiling. She shook her head like a wet dog as he closed the door behind her, sending rainwater flying from her hair.

 

“Let me get you a towel,” Mulder said. “Why would you go out in this?”

 

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, the power’s out,” she answered.

 

“Oh is that why it suddenly went dark?” he called from the bathroom.

 

“What have you been doing in here this whole time?”

 

Mulder came out of the bathroom with two towels and handed her one. “That’s a personal question.”

 

“Can’t be that personal,” she answered, rubbing her hair with one of the towels. “We can’t even get basic cable on these relics let alone pay-per-view.”

 

“Just what are you accusing me of, Agent Scully?” He smiled as he brought the other towel around her back and draped it over her shoulders, rubbing them lightly. “Maybe I was just lying here thinking about you.”

 

“Yeah? What were you thinking?”

 

“Personal things,” he said, bending down to whisper it in her ear. She shivered and he let go of her to shuffle over to the bed and then flopped down. “So, what brings you by?”

 

“Like I said, the power’s out.”

 

“Yeah. The power went out, it’s not the end of the world.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be the end of the world for me to…”

 

“For you to what?”

 

“Want to be with you.”

 

The admission put a speedbump in their conversation. For the next few moments, only the rain had anything to say. It was so dark that Mulder was only a shadow on the bed, unmoving. She stepped closer hoping to see more than the line of his jaw.

 

“Do you?” he asked, very quietly. “Want to be with me?”

 

“That’s personal,” she whispered, sitting gently on the side of the bed.

 

Mulder reached out to her and she turned her hand over for him, but he moved past her arm and plucked the sleeve of her shirt. His shirt, actually. It’s not that she liked the Knicks, or even basketball, but it was comfortable and it had ended up in one of her bags when she’d left. She’d taken to wearing it to bed those first weeks because it still smelled like him.

 

“I was wondering where this got to,” he said. “Thief.”

 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” she mumbled. “Just stop pouting.”

 

“I’m not pouting. Looks better on you anyway.”

 

Scully looked away from him to the rain streaming down the window. “Good thing we’re not driving in this.”

 

“Very good.”

 

She watched the rain for a few more moments and then very slowly, lay down in front of Mulder, with her back to him, still looking out the window. “What were you thinking about me?” she asked.

 

“I told you,” he said, reaching over her and turning off the flashlight. He settled down with his arm over her and his chest pressed to her back. He nuzzled the back of her head with his face. “It’s personal,” he whispered into her hair. “But, it looked a little something like this.”

 

The End

 

 


	26. I wouldn’t change a thing..except when you vomited on my shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> msr request

 

Scully woke with a pounding in her head that made it difficult to open her eyes. Her mouth was dry and her tongue had somehow become glued to the roof of her mouth. The corners of her mouth felt sticky with saliva and she licked at her lips to get rid of the sensation. She could both smell her own breath and taste it on her tongue and she gagged from it.

 

It took effort to roll over. Her muscles were limp and heavy. She ached everywhere, from her head to her toes and broke into a cold sweat just by moving. She groaned and clutched at her temples, digging the heels of her hands into her throbbing eyes.

 

“You okay?” a voice mumbled.

 

Startled, fueled by adrenaline, she bolted upright and then moaned in pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight, but not before she caught a glimpse of Mulder, sprawled out next to her in her bed. He was shirtless and the sheet had slipped down to his waist. If he was pantsless, she would have to die of mortification. She did a quick assessment of her own state of dress and though she was, thankfully, wearing underwear, the only other item of clothing she had on was a very small t-shirt.

 

“Mulder?” she moaned, curling into a ball so that her forehead rested on her knees.

 

His hand came down gently between her shoulder blades and he rubbed her spine. “Are you going to throw up again?” he asked.

 

 _Again_? she thought. _Again_?

 

“Scully?”

 

“I don’t think so,” she said, noticing for the first time how raw her throat was. Mulder took his hand away and she felt the weight of his body leave the bed. She wanted to peek up from her knees to see what he was – or wasn’t – wearing, but she couldn’t open her eyes.

 

“Here,” he said, opening her fingers and slipping two pills into her hand.

 

Very cautiously, Scully opened her eyes and lifted her head. Mulder was wearing jeans, thank God, and holding a glass of water out for her. She pushed the pills into her mouth and took only enough water to wash them down, grimacing the entire time.

 

“I’m guessing you have one hell of a hangover right now,” he said.

 

“What happened?”

 

“One too many martinis, I think.”

 

She groaned and gingerly lay back down, curling up as she shivered. She felt hot and cold at the same time. Mulder pulled the sheet over her and rubbed her back. She could hear the amusement in his voice and she wanted to be mad at him, but he was her only link to the previous night and her mind was a blank.

 

“Is there anything I should know?” she whispered.

 

“You don’t remember?”

 

“Not much past wishing Agent Brady a happy retirement. And thinking the martini was a little stronger than what I’m used to.”

 

“You don’t remember dancing on the table and telling Skinner you wanted to kiss his beautiful, bald head?”

 

“What!?” Scully’s eyes popped open and she struggled to sit up, moaning as her head protested her sudden movement.

 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Mulder said, rubbing her shoulder and easing her back down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d believe that.”

 

“So, I didn’t…?”

 

“Of course not.” He chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair. She sighed as he massaged her head lightly.

 

“Please, keep doing that,” she mumbled, a little embarrassed by how good it felt.

 

“So, you want me to tell you what happened?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You drank too much and all you had to eat were pretzels. You seemed fine, could carry a conversation, but as soon as you stood up from our booth, you turned green. I got you out of the bar pretty quickly and then you decorated the sidewalk, and me, with half-digested pretzels.”

 

“Oh, God.”

 

Mulder moved his hands over her head and slipped his thumbs down to her temples to rub in small circles. It helped immensely and made her drowsy.

 

“Scully?”

 

“Mmhm?”

 

“Full disclosure?”

 

She hesitated, not knowing what more there could be and how embarrassed she would be by it. “What did I do?”

 

“It’s not so much what you did…” Mulder paused and his hands stilled on her head for a few moments. “But, since you don’t remember, I want you to know I love you too.”

 

Scully opened her eyes and blinked at him. She felt her eyes begin to water and her head began to ache again from the pressure in her sinuses. Mulder looked absolutely stricken and he put his hands on her face, brushing his thumbs along the corner of her eyes.

 

“Hey,” he said. “You made me feel…we don’t have to ever talk about it again, but I just want you to know that I do too, because maybe last night will come back to you and I wouldn’t want you to only half-remember and have to wonder.”

 

She rubbed a hand across her eyes and gave him as much of a nod as she could muster, but she was saddened by the fact that she had told someone she loved them for the first time, and meant it, because she does love him, but she doesn’t even have the memory of it.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

 

“I wouldn’t change a thing…except when you vomited on my shoes. That I would change.”

 

She managed a sad smile and then moved her head out of his hands. He rubbed her shoulder for a moment and then got up off the bed.

 

“Speaking of, I had to do a little laundry last night. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“No.” She moved her eyes up and glanced at his bare chest as he stood beside the bed. “But, um…I know I went to work in a pantsuit yesterday. How did I end up only wearing a t-shirt?”

 

Mulder smiled. “I’ll let you try to remember that one by yourself.”

 

The End


	27. One more step, I dare you. // I may have dropped it in the lake

 

Sometimes Mulder felt like a living example of a comedy of errors. The case had been a disaster since the flight out was delayed for more than an hour and they’d missed their connection. It was a long drive from Chicago to the land of 10,000 lakes and by the time they reached their destination, he was pretty sure he and Scully were going to kill each other they were both so tired and cranky.

 

Of course, they still had an investigation to run. Had they arrived five hours earlier, as planned, they would have had time to rest and prepare, but no such luck. They had less than twenty minutes to pick up their rented trawler at the agreed upon time. If not for the fact that Scully knew how to operate a boat, he may not have taken the case, but a haunted lake was too intriguing to pass up.

 

Scully was less than sympathetic as he heaved up his breakfast, lunch, and dinner overboard. Probably because he’d made a crack about making sure she didn’t sink this boat like the one in Georgia. She gave him a hard glare and he could swear she made the boat rock on purpose just to turn his initial queasiness into full-blown seasickness.

 

It took less than ten minutes to arrive at the tiny island in the center of the lake, supposedly the source of the hauntings. At one time it had been home to a lighthouse, but that had been destroyed by fire more than a half century ago and locals wouldn’t go near it for fear of the ghost of the lake. Four drownings in one week had old time residents convinced the legendary spirit was pissed off and taking revenge. It had been Scully’s idea to start with ground zero and investigate the island at nightfall, discredit the so-called ghost, and get back to DC as soon as possible.

 

Mulder had already thrown up twice before he set foot on the island. He felt weak in the knees and lightheaded. Scully staked the boat to the pebbled shore and moved on ahead of him, shining her flashlight in every which way and startling a flock of sleeping birds in the sand.

 

It took only minutes to reach the high point of the island where the charred remains of the lighthouse stood. The foundation was nearly invisible, covered over with grass and silt, but wood and rusted metal marked the spot.

 

“Looks undisturbed,” Scully said. “I didn’t see any footprints, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

She circled the spot and shined her flashlight over the ground. He followed the path of her light as she stomped through the weeds to the other side of the island. They came up empty handed. Nothing but birds and foliage.

 

“What did you expect?” Mulder asked as they crossed back to the other side of the island and back to the boat. “Ghosts don’t usually come out and introduce themselves.”

 

“There is no such thing as ghosts, Mulder. I expected…I don’t know what I expected.” She sighed in exasperation.

 

“Uh, Scully…”

 

“What?”

 

“Where’s the boat?”

 

“What do you mean, ‘where’s the boat,’ the boat’s…where the hell is the boat!?”

 

They shined their lights out at the lake and into the black night. In the distance, not too far away, the boat floated peacefully on the water.

 

“Think the ghost took it?” Mulder asked.

 

Scully shined her light in his face and glared at him.

 

“I guess we’ll just call Sheriff Olson and tell him we’re stranded,” he said.

 

She growled in annoyance. “I left my phone on the boat.”

 

“That’s okay I have…uh…” He patted one jacket pocket and then the other and came up empty.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Uh…don’t be mad at me.”

 

“You don’t have your phone?”

 

He vaguely remembered an odd splash when he was hanging over the side of the boat earlier. “There’s a chance…I may have dropped it in the lake.”

 

“Of course you did.” She sighed again and pointed her flashlight back out at the water. “It’s not that far. I’ll just swim for it.”

 

“I can go.”

 

“No. I obviously didn’t tie it up good enough and I should’ve had my phone with me.”

 

“I thought we agreed the ghost took the boat.”

 

Scully pointed her flashlight at him and raised her brow.

 

“I’ll go,” he said.

 

“And how would you get the boat back here once you reach it?”

 

“We’ll both go.”

 

“It’s not necessary.” She clicked off her light and tucked it into her pocket.

 

Mulder grabbed her arm as she headed towards the water. “We go together or we don’t go at all.”

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, touching his forehead and cheek.

 

“Like I could use a midnight swim. Come on, partner.”

 

They stood at the edge of the water for a few moments longer. If there was a lake ghost, and Mulder was not convinced there was, but he wasn’t convinced there wasn’t either, he didn’t want to drown without telling saying a few things first. He grabbed her arm to hold her back as she waded knee deep into the lake.

 

“Scully…”

 

“What?”

 

“Just…if there is a lake ghost…”

 

“Mulder, there’s no such thing as ghosts.” She backed up into the water and sank down to her shoulders. “See. Perfectly fine. One more step, I dare you.”

 

“I’m not afraid, I just wanted to tell you…”

 

“Tell me when we’re on the boat. Get in here partner. Time for a midnight swim.”

 

The End


	28. ‘Must be this tall to ride’, my ass! // Why are we even doing this anymore?

 

The game was Mulder’s idea. It wasn’t really a game, but he was right, if they were going to spend hours locked in a car together on a stakeout, they needed something to talk about. Otherwise, how awkward to sit in silence.

 

It was kind of like a variation on 20 questions. Except, they each only got one question and the other had to elaborate as much as possible. In the days of their first few stakeouts, the questions were innocuous and a little boring. Did Mulder really care who Scully’s favorite teacher in elementary school was? Not really. But, did Scully really care what Mulder’s favorite TV show as a kid was either? Not at all.

 

After awhile, the questions got to be more personal. What’s your most embarrassing memory? Biggest fear in life? Who was your first crush? And, Mulder’s question of the night: who was your first kiss?

 

“Why are we even doing this anymore?” Scully asked. “We have plenty to talk about now, we’ve been partners well over a year.”

 

“Sounds like someone’s trying to avoid the question.”

 

“I’m not, it just seems so silly now, is all.”

 

“Be sure not to leave out any details.”

 

“Fine.” Scully sighed and hunkered down in her seat. “I was 11. It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade.”

 

“Summer lovin’,” Mulder sang softly, “had me a blast.”

 

“Shut up, Mulder. It was late in summer, and there was this carnival-slash-fair that always came to town not too far from my dad’s base. We would save up our allowances for this and my Mom would drop us off after dinner and we had to be back to the gate by 8.

 

“There was a boy that I liked, his name was Sean. He wasn’t one of the base kids, our family knew his family from church. I knew he liked me too.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

Scully blushed and dropped her head as a smile crossed her face. “You know those cliché notes you hear about that say ‘Do you like me, check yes or no?’”

 

“You checked yes, I hope.”

 

“I did.”

 

“You said you knew him from church. Was this note passing taking place in the house of the lord?”

 

“It was.”

 

“That’s very naughty of you, Scully.”

 

“Anyway. Sean and I made plans to meet up at the carnival.”

 

“There has to be some type of sin associated with planning lover’s trysts in church.”

 

Scully rolled her eyes. “Mulder, I was 11. And stop interrupting. So, we met up at the carnival. We played a few games and I remember that was the night I won a goldfish in that ping pong toss thing, which died within a week of bringing it home.”

 

“What was the fish’s name?”

 

“I don’t know. I probably didn’t even give it one.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you name your fish?”

“Do you name _your_ fish?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Next time you’re over I’ll give you a formal introduction.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Scully shook her head. “Um, well, we played the games for a bit and then Sean wanted to go on some rides. We rode the swings, I remember, and a little roller coaster, but he really wanted to go on that ride The Zipper.”

 

“Which one is that?”

 

“Uh, it’s like…you sit inside these enclosed cages in a row and then the ride rotates and the cage spins as you go up and down. Like if a ferris wheel was on a stick instead of a circle.”

 

“Okay, I think I know which one that is.”

 

“So we’re in line and I was feeling all jittery because Sean was holding my hand, but I saw the sign up ahead with that red line that says you must be this tall to ride this ride.”

 

“Uh oh.”

 

“I knew I was at least an inch shy of what it was supposed to be.”

 

“What’d you do?”

 

“I think I kind of noticed it at the same time Sean did. He said it was ok, that we didn’t have to go on this ride and he let go of my hand.”

 

“Quitter.”

 

“Yeah, it made me mad. So mad, I said ‘Must be this tall to ride’, my ass!”

 

“You said that?”

 

“Well…” Scully shrugged a little. “I certainly thought it. I took his hand back and marched right up to the ride operator, who probably would’ve been fired today because he didn’t even look twice at me, or at Sean, and let us right into the little cage.”

 

“That’s what liability insurance is for.”

 

“So, now we’re on the ride and it takes awhile to get all the people on, so we’re going up and stopping and up and stopping until it gets going and then I’m sliding all over the place because I can’t reach the floor and I’m screaming and hanging onto the lap bar for dear life.

 

“Finally, _finally_ , the ride stops and we’re hanging partially upside down so that now we can go through the process of getting everyone off. When our cage finally tips rightside up, Sean, who had simply been thrilled this whole time, turned his head and kissed me right on the mouth.”

 

“I could do a psychological profile on this guy,” Mulder said. “Did you kiss him back?”

 

“I think I was a little too stunned from the ride to offer anything in return, but my heart was certainly palpitating and I was flustered and sweaty. Probably like most first kisses.”

 

“It’s a sweet story.”

 

“Hang on, it’s not finished.”

 

“There’s more to Sean than meets the eye?”

 

“Well, I was so stunned and so flustered, that I wasn’t even really cognizant of getting let out of the ride, so when the operator opened the door, and remember, I couldn’t reach the floor, I fell right out of the cage and flat on my face.”

 

“Scully!”

 

“Needless to say, there was no second date with Sean.”

 

Mulder pressed his lips together and turned his head away. He shook his head a little and Scully sighed at her memory.

 

“You can laugh, Mulder, it’s ok.”

 

“I’m not laughing, I’m...did he help you up, at least?”

 

“No, the ride operator did.”

 

“What a little asshole.”

 

Scully chuckled. “He was 11. What would you have done at 11?”

 

“Would’ve been a gentleman and kissed you twice.”

 

“You didn’t ask me about my second kiss.”

 

“What was-”

 

“Ah ah,” she cut him off. “Next time.”

 

The End


	29. It’s midnight, we’re not getting doughnuts // That cashier is staring at you

 

The cravings didn’t start until the second trimester. Mulder had been waiting for that ‘pickles & ice cream’ moment to come since they’d found out about the pregnancy, but when the first months passed and she still seemed like the same old Scully, predictable as ever with her daily garden salad for lunch and baked chicken dinners, he thought maybe it was just a myth.

 

It started with French fries. They were driving back from her mother’s house on a Sunday evening when Scully grabbed his arm in a vice grip and practically begged him to pull into the McDonalds drive-thru. If she didn’t have French fries that exact moment, she would die.

 

The next thing to hit her was fried chicken. Not just any fried chicken, but the fried chicken legs in the deli section of her local grocery store. Extra crispy. She didn’t understand why she had to have it so much, she didn’t even like fried chicken. Even Mulder thought it was kind of gross, but the baby wants what the baby wants, is the excuse they came up with.

 

Scully had gone to bed early and Mulder had gone to bed late. He hadn’t been asleep for long when he was kicked out of slumber, quite literally. He groaned and knit his brows together. Scully’s foot knocked him in the calf.

 

“Mmph,” he said, his face smashed into his pillow. “Scuhneequidkinningme.”

 

“Mulder,” she whispered.

 

“Mmph.”

 

“I need a doughnut.”

 

Mulder opened his eyes and blinked at the bedside clock. “Scully,” he groaned. “It’s midnight, we’re not getting doughnuts.”

 

“You’re not gonna get me a doughnut?”

 

“I’ll get you a dozen in the morning.”

 

He felt her slide out of bed and he rolled over, rubbing his eyes as she turned on the lamp. She pulled a robe on over her nightshirt and sleep shorts and tied the sash over her rounded belly.

 

“What’re you doing?” he asked as she shoved her feet into a pair of slippers.

 

“Dunkin’ Donuts is around the corner.”

 

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine,” he groaned, pushing himself up. “Go back to bed.”

 

“No, you might get the wrong ones.”

 

“A doughnut is a doughnut.”

 

“See.”

 

“Well, I’m up.” He yawned as he stumbled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers. She waited impatiently at the door as he pulled on a t-shirt and stepped into his shoes. He grabbed his keys and his wallet off the dresser and followed her out the door.

 

Dunkin’ Donuts was virtually empty, and why wouldn’t it be? It was nearly one am on a Tuesday and aside from two med students in wrinkled scrubs sipping coffees, they had the place to themselves.

 

Mulder let out a jaw-cracking yawn and rubbed the back of his head as he waited for Scully to peruse the rack of doughnuts. He grew more impatient by the minute waiting for her to make her selection.

 

“That cashier is staring at you,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

 

“I don’t care,” she answered, stepping closer to the counter and pointing at the rack over the cashier’s shoulder. “I want that one in the middle with the white frosting and sprinkles. And the glazed one over there, not the one with filling, just plain. And one of the chocolate ones.”

 

“Are you gonna eat all those doughnuts, Scully?”

 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

 

The cashier wrapped up the doughnuts and Mulder paid for them. Scully took the bag and hugged it to her chest. She waited until they were outside at least to dig in, pulling the chocolate doughnut out first and taking an enormous bite. Mulder had to chuckle at her chocolate-covered lips and he stopped her, bending down to kiss the melted confectionary off her mouth.

 

“You want a bite?” Scully asked.

 

“I’ll be up all night.

 

She put the half-eaten doughnut back in the bag and cleaned her fingers with one of the napkins before she took his hand. He slipped his fingers through hers and swung their hands between them. She leaned closer to him and rested her head against his arm.

 

“You don’t want anymore?” he asked.

 

“I kind of feel a little sick, to be honest. You know I don’t even like doughnuts.”

 

Mulder chuckled. “I know. But, hey, the baby wants what the baby wants, right?”

 

She yawned and rubbed her face against his arm. “Thank you,” she said.

 

“If the baby could stop wanting things at midnight though, that would really be helpful.”

 

The End


	30. I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many prompts in one:
> 
> I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.  
> You’re so cute when you’re upset.  
> It’s pitch black in here and I can see you’re blushing  
> It’s only been two weeks.

 

She had followed him blindly into all sorts of situations in their partnership with mostly unpleasant results. They’d been shot at, detained by all sorts of military or government officials, threatened, chased, etc. She always told herself it would be the last time, but it never was. This is why she found herself slinking through the Air & Space Museum at midnight, trailing her partner through a moonlit atrium filled with planes, and no clue as to why they were there.

 

“What the hell are we doing here, Mulder?” she whispered.

 

“Shh,” he said. “Almost there.”

 

“Almost _where_?”

 

“You’ll see.”

 

Mulder produced a key and opened up a door at the end of the hall. He took Scully’s arm and guided her into a room that was so utterly dark, she instinctively made a grab for her left pocket for her flashlight.

 

“I got it,” he said, but he only turned his penlight on and shined it at the floor. He held his hand out to her and she slipped her fingers into his and let him guide her down an incline and then through a row of seats. They were apparently in some sort of auditorium.

 

Mulder stopped and indicated she should sit down in one of the chairs. She pulled the seat down and as soon as she sat, the back reclined and tipped her down.

 

“Stay here,” he said.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, along with the light, and she wiggled in the chair, nervous and impatient.

 

A few minutes passed in darkness and in silence and her impatience turned into irritation. Suddenly, pinpricks of light illuminated the ceiling and she found herself looking up at Orion. The replicated night sky filled all points of her vision so that she felt like she was surrounded by stars.

 

“You like?” Mulder asked, appearing like magic and sliding down into the seat next to her.

 

“Do I even want to know how you managed this?” she asked.

 

“I have a friend that owes me a favor. And when I told him I owed my partner a pretty significant apology, he gave me the key.”

 

Scully gave a soft snort as a reply.

 

“You can tell me,” he said. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you hate me?”

 

“I don’t hate you,” answered. “I just strongly dislike you.”

 

Mulder sighed and they both turned their attention to the stars.

 

“Is that the little dipper?” he asked.

 

“Where are you looking?”

 

He pointed up and she followed the line of his hand up to the left. “That’s Cassiopeia,” she said, putting her hand over his and moving it to the right and up a little further. “That’s the little dipper.”

 

“Do you know the story of Cassiopeia?” he asked, turning his wrist and lacing his fingers with hers while bringing their hands down to his lap.

 

“Cassiopeia was an arrogant Queen who boasted that she and her daughter, Andromeda, were more beautiful than all of the sea nymphs. Her claims offended Poseidon, who punished her by having her bound to her throne and cast into the heavens where she circles the celestial pole spending half her time upside down.”

 

Mulder rolled his head towards her and rubbed the outside of her thumb with his. “You know I find Greek mythology quite a turn on.”

 

Scully tried to wiggled her hand free from Mulder’s grasp, but he held on.

 

“Let go,” she whispered.

 

“Not because you’re embarrassed.”

 

“I’m not embarrassed.”

 

“It’s pitch black in here and I can see you’re blushing.”

 

“Mulder, let go.”

 

Mulder relaxed his fingers and let the slide free from hers. He crossed his arms over his chest and she crossed her wrists over her lap.

 

“It’s only been two weeks,” she said.

 

“It was two days and one night of not knowing if you were alive or dead,” he answered, voice slightly strained. “And sixteen nights of cold sheets. I’ve had to go back to sleeping on the couch because the bed is too empty without you.”

 

“That’s not my fault.”

 

“I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming myself. I should have trusted you, but you have no idea how scared I was. If I lost you…Scully, if…if he’d hurt you, I…”

 

“Stop,” she said, turning slightly in her seat so she could put her hand on his chest. “I know _exactly_ how it feels, Mulder. But, you weren’t thinking of me as your partner for those days, you were thinking of me as your lover.”

 

“So?” He shook his head and stroked the back of her hand on his chest. “I’m not going to compartmentalize you. If, God forbid, something happens and you’re out of my reach, I can’t promise the thought of never holding you again isn’t going to cross my mind just as much as never arguing about case theories with you is.”

 

Scully turned her face back up to the constellations but left her hand under his. “We said we wouldn’t let this affect our work.”

 

“And it hasn’t. I thought that meant hands off from 9 to 5 and while we might be out of town on a case. I agree with that and I’ve respected it. But, again, if you hare off with the man who’s been the single greatest threat in all aspects of both of our lives, I am going to do everything in my power to find you, even if that means going to the ends of the earth. Again.”

 

A tear slid out of the corner of Scully’s left eye and rolled down her temple. She wanted to brush it away, but she didn’t want Mulder to know it was there. The stars blurred from the sheen in her eyes and she clenched her jaw to steel herself against them.

 

“Scully?” Mulder reached over and touched her chin, but she wouldn’t turn her head for him. “I was angry with you for going with him willingly, but I was also angry for you because I know all too well what it feels like to be misled by him.”

 

“I should’ve been smarter than that,” she managed to eke out through a pinched voice.

 

“I’m sorry that neither of us are better at this.” He carried her hand up to his mouth and spoke with his lips against her knuckles. “We’d both rather go to separate corners and lick our wounds in private, but we don’t need to do that anymore.”

 

“Well, we’ve got to figure it out, Mulder, because I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

 

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” He touched her chin again and this time she turned her face towards him, but let her eyes flutter closed when she caught a glimpse of the love shining in his.

 

Mulder rested his hand on her neck and his thumb stroked her jaw as he touched his forehead to hers. She sniffed quietly and swallowed and he reached up and brushed the dampness away from the apple of her cheek.

 

“You know,” he whispered, “you’re so cute when you’re upset.”

 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she murmured.

 

He touched his mouth to hers and she could feel his smile against her lips. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments after he moved away and then she turned her head and blinked up into the Milky Way. He stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow where it lay across his chest.

 

“I don’t want you to sleep on your couch tonight,” she said.

 

“I don’t either,” he answered.

 

The End


	31. Liar liar pants on fire / Sometimes I forget we’re married and not just best friends / Do you ever knock???

 

There are times when the connecting door has been a blessing for them, and there are times when it has been a curse. There came to be an unspoken rule between them; if the door was open, you may enter, if the door was closed, you may not. Sometimes it was due to the need for privacy or sometimes they had just annoyed each other so much during the day that they needed their space at the end of it. If an important breakthrough came in, they could always knock.

 

Scully could swear a blood oath that she closed and locked her door before she took a shower. She would’ve testified to it in court with her hand on a bible, if it came down to it. Obviously though, she did _not_ lock the door, since Mulder was currently standing in her room with a file in his hand, mouth agape. She was also standing in her room, not a stitch of clothing on her body.

 

“Mulder!” she yelped, searching in vain for the towel she’d flung off her body only moments ago.

 

“Uh…” he answered.

 

“Get out!” she ordered, finally locating the towel hanging off the far side of the bed and scrambling to grab at it and cover herself. She was finally able to wrap it around herself and she glared at him as he stayed rooted to his spot

 

“I, uh…”

 

“Do you ever knock???”

 

“Not when the door is open.”

 

“That’s impossible, I closed it before I took a shower.”

 

“It was open, Scully, I swear.”

 

“Liar liar pants on fire,” she mumbled under her breath.

 

“Are you saying…do you think I walked in on you on purpose?” He actually looked hurt by the implication and she softened a little.

 

“No, I’m saying…I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just embarrassed as hell right now.”

 

“Why?”

 

She gave him an exasperated look and tightened the fold of the towel around her chest. “ _Why_?” she parroted.

 

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

 

Her cheeks burned hot with renewed embarrassment and a little bit of anger. “Excuse me?”

 

“Bellefleur, Oregon?”

 

“I was _not_ naked.”

 

“Ah, but my imagination says otherwise.”

 

“Mulder!”

 

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, sarcastically. “Sometimes I forget we’re _married_ and not just best friends. It’s just so casual and like nothing at all. I should just walk around naked all the time.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind.”

 

Scully’s jaw could’ve broken with the force of how she gritted her teeth.

 

“You think we’re best friends, Scully?”

 

“That’s what you got out of that?”

 

“I just don’t see what the big deal is. You’ve seen _me_ naked quite a few times and I didn’t fly off the handle about it.”

 

“That’s entirely different. You were hurt and I’m a doctor.”

 

“Right.” He rolled his eyes a little. “I’m also a man and you’re a woman, and you’re my partner, _and_ we’re best friends, apparently.”

 

She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t even know what you’re saying.”

 

“Well, it’s all in how you look at it. I mean, you’re my partner and my _best friend_ , which, let’s be honest, for me, probably my only friend, but you’re also a beautiful woman with a beautiful body. That didn’t just occur to me out of nowhere, I’ve seen you. But, if I spent all day thinking about you naked, I’d go crazy. So, I don’t. And, I won’t. Unless…you want me to.”

 

Scully had to press her lips together to keep the smile off her face. Whatever point he was trying to make, he sounded ridiculous. She supposed she should be offended, but he’d just called her beautiful so matter-of-factly that it was kind of hard to be angry with him.

 

“You don’t spend all day thinking about _me_ naked,” he said. “Do you?”

 

“Not all day,” she answered, giving him an enigmatic quirk of her brow and lowering her eyes slightly to his chest before flicking them back up to his face.

 

He smirked. “I thought so.”

 

“Could you please leave and let me get dressed and then we’ll go over whatever is so important in that file in your hand?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Thank you.” She followed him to the connecting doors and as soon as she shut her side behind him, it slowly swung back open. She shut it again and it eked open a few inches. Mulder stood on the other side and raised his brows at her.

 

“I told you it was open,” he said.

 

She slammed it hard and twisted the lock, waiting for a few moments to make sure it didn’t pop open again.

 

“Call me when you’re ready,” Mulder yelled through the door. “I’ll just be over on my side…not thinking about you naked!”

 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she mumbled, glaring at the door.

 

The End


	32. Just let me explain…there was this guy and… / I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone / You’re okay, I promise

 

Scully was in the kitchen when the knock on her door came. Her hands were wet from washing dinner dishes and she wiped them dry before she went to check the peephole.

 

“Missy?” she said, opening the door to her sister.

 

“Dana, can I come in?”

 

“Of course. Is everything all right?”

 

“I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone.”

 

“What? Why?” Scully quickly ushered her sister inside and bolted her door. “What happened? Are you hurt?

 

“Dana, relax. Nothing like that, just let me explain…” Melissa paused and toyed with the necklace hanging low at her chest. “There was this guy and…”

 

“Scully, I think you have a leak in your sink,” Mulder said, coming down the hall from the bathroom and accidentally interrupting her sister. “Oh, hey Melissa.”

 

“Fox,” Melissa said.

 

“ _Mulder_ ,” Scully corrected, her worried gaze dissolving into slight exasperation at her sister before she looked up at her partner. “I know about the leak, the super is coming tomorrow actually.”

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Melissa asked. “I can come back.”

 

“No, of course not,” Scully said, at the same time Mulder answered, “I was just leaving.”

 

“You don’t have to go,” Melissa said.

 

“I do, actually,” he replied. “If I’m not home by ten, I turn into a pumpkin.”

 

Melissa chuckled and Mulder grinned at her. Scully rolled her eyes a little.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” Scully said, and then pointed to the couch and looked at Melissa. “You, sit. I’ll be right there.”

 

Mulder gathered the files on the table they were working on and met Scully at the door where she held his jacket. He traded the files for the coat and shrugged it on, bending his head and whispering close to her ear.

 

“Everything okay?” he asked.

 

“Guy trouble, I think,” she whispered back.

 

“Sounds like you have a night of girl talk ahead of you.”

 

Scully grimaced and Mulder squeezed her arm as he took the files back from her.

 

“Not a fan of girl talk, are you, Scully? You’re okay, I promise,” he said quietly and then straightened. “Good night, Melissa.”

 

“Good night, Fox.”

 

Scully turned around and glared at Melissa as Mulder slipped out the door. She locked it behind him and then sat down on the couch next to her sister.

 

“I’m sorry I interrupted…whatever I interrupted,” Melissa said.

 

“It was just work. So, tell me about this guy.”

 

“Why can’t you be honest with your feelings?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Dana, your aura actually dimmed when he said he was leaving. You wanted him to stay. You should’ve told him.”

 

Scully sighed. “There’s no such thing as an aura.”

 

“Whether or not you believe in it has no bearing on its existence.”

 

“Maybe it was _you_ who wanted him to stay. You sound like two peas in a pod.”

 

“No,” Melissa shook her head. “I did his astrological chart. We’re not compatible. You, though…”

 

Scully stood up and crossed her arms. “You came over for a reason, which I still don’t know, so if you want to talk about it, talk. Otherwise, I’m going to bed. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

 

Melissa reclined against the couch and looked up at her sister, but said nothing. Scully nodded once and started to walk away.

 

“Dana,” Melissa called.

 

“Yes?” Scully turned and crossed her arms again, looking stern.

 

“You keep your heart locked so tightly. You always have. Don’t deny yourself a happiness you could have by refusing to be vulnerable.”

 

“Missy-”

 

“He’s important to you,” Melissa interrupted.

 

“Yes, he is important to me. But…”

 

“He feels the same.”

 

“On what could you possibly base that?”

 

“I have eyes. I have ears. And, I have a sense about it.”

 

“Good night, Melissa. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.”

 

Scully walked away and shut herself inside her room. She leaned against the closed door, her heart racing and hands shaking. She hoped Mulder didn’t see her as transparently as her sister or she would never be able to look him in the eye again. And it simply couldn’t be possible for Melissa to know how Mulder felt. If Mulder had any feelings, Scully would know. Wouldn’t she?

 

The End


	33. You can hit me, but you can’t kiss me // You remind me of my grandfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Triangle fluff

 

Mulder rubbed his sore jaw, smiling fondly at the memory of Scully's face when their lips parted, just before she clocked him.

 

"Scully," he called out, hoping she was still nearby.

 

Scully heard Mulder call her name from just outside the door to his room.  She hesitated, but turned around and went back in, making her impatience easily recognizable on her face.

 

"Mulder, I can't keep coming in here," she said, gripping the rail on the side of the bed.  "What do you want?"

 

"You can hit me, but you can't kiss me?" he asked.

 

"Excuse me?" She raised her brow in puzzlement.

 

Mulder took her right hand in his and folded her fingers into a fist.  He brought her knuckles up and gingerly touched them to his jaw, hoping he lined the bruise up correctly with her hand.

 

"You were there, Scully," he whispered, laying back in bed and keeping a hold on her wrist and arm.  "In red satin and pincurls. You didn't even know me, but you went with me."

 

Scully pulled her hand free and leaned closer until their faces were inches apart and she stared into his eyes, scrutinizing the size of his pupils.  He gazed back through a dreamy fog of painkillers, giving her a dopey smile. 

 

"I kissed you and you hit me," he said.

 

Scully raised her hand between them and held up her index finger.  "Mulder, follow my finger with just your eyes."

 

"I don't have a concussion, Scully."  He followed the trail of her finger to prove himself; side to side, up and down.

 

Scully put her hand on his head and sifted her fingers through his hair to check for knots.

 

"You really did save the world," he murmured, closing his eyes.

 

She kept moving her fingers through his hair because it seemed to make him calm and drowsy.  The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner she could leave.  His eyes opened again and drooped softly like a baby fighting sleep.

 

"You remind me of my grandfather," Scully said.

 

"Hm, why?" he murmured.

 

"He had dementia late in life and said some pretty outrageous things as well."  She gave him a smile and he smiled back as his eyelids fluttered.

 

"Would you hit me again if I kissed you?" he asked.  "If we weren't being chased by Nazis next time?"

 

Scully stilled her fingers in his hair and tipped her head.  She could see that his breathing had already slowed as though he was talking in his sleep.  There was no movement under his eyelids.

 

"Mulder?" she whispered, rubbing his head lightly.  He didn't move.  She pulled her hand back and rested against the bed rail to watch him sleep.  She lingered over him for a few moments longer and then pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.  She smoothed her hand over his head again and then lightly moved her fingers over the bruise on his jaw.  "Try me some time and find out," she whispered before she left the room.

 

The End


	34. You should've known better

 

They were in trouble. Big, fat, freakin’ trouble. They’d never seen Skinner’s bald head so red before. Not even that time Mulder overreacted and did that thing with the thing to the vampire.

 

They sat side by side in Skinner’s office, their chairs a respectable foot and a half apart. No one spoke. Whenever Mulder pursed his lips and stretched his neck to say something, Scully shot him a look and he would slouch and brood while Skinner just stared.

 

Eventually, Skinner removed his glasses and wiped the lenses free from the light mist of condensation that formed when the heat from his head began to fog them over. He kept his steady, disapproving gaze on Mulder as he whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket. He rubbed the left lens and then the right. Rubbed and stared. Stared and rubbed. A sarcastic remark was on the tip of Mulder’s tongue, but he felt the blaze of Scully’s glare boring into his temple.

 

Suddenly, Skinner got up, slipped his glasses back over his ears, and walked out of the room. The door slammed behind him, rattling the picture of the president on the adjoining wall. Mulder looked over at Scully and she raised her brow in return.

 

“You should’ve known better,” he said to her.

 

She scoffed, plucking a piece of loose thread off the hem of her skirt. “You’re blaming me for this?” she asked.

 

“You started it.”

 

“It’s not my fault you lack self control.”

 

“I’m not saying I don’t. I’m saying you should’ve known better.” He reached over and hooked his finger into the side slit of her skirt, pulling up until he exposed the garter belt on her thigh and she smacked his hand away.

 

“We’re In enough trouble as it is,” she hissed. “Don’t make it worse.”

 

“What exactly did you expect me to do when you sit on my desk like that?”

 

“I thought it might give you a little incentive to get home a little quicker. Not ta-”

 

The door opened and Scully shut her mouth, turning her eyes forward. She sat a little straighter and laced her fingers together in her lap while Mulder slouched even more and rested his chin on his fist.

 

Skinner took a seat and opened a file on his desk. He picked up a pen and began to write as though neither of his agents were there. He looked much calmer than he had been ten minutes ago.

 

“I don’t give a shit what you do in your spare time,” Skinner said, addressing the file in front of him without looking up. “Try to use a little more discretion in the office. Being in the basement doesn’t make you invisible.”

 

“That’s it?” Mulder asked.

 

Scully stood and glanced at Mulder, urging him with her eyes to let it drop and get up. He hesitated, but then pushed out of his chair and narrowed his eyes at Skinner in disbelief.

 

“Sir?” Mulder asked.

 

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” Skinner barked. “I didn’t want to see what I saw any more than you wanted me to see it. This _will_ be the last time we have this conversation. Are we clear?”

 

“We’re clear,” Scully answered for both of them. “Come on, Mulder.”

 

Mulder trailed after Scully out of Skinner’s office like a puppy on her heels. She kept her distance from him in the elevator and bolted out ahead of him to beat him into the office. He closed the door behind them and double-checked the lock.

 

“Don’t,” Scully said, crossing her arms over her chest as he backed her into the filing cabinet.

 

“He said to use discretion,” he argued, framing her face with both hands and teasing her lips with his. “He didn’t say stop.”

 

“Mulder.” She tipped her face away and his lips fell to her neck. “How can you even be turned on right now?”

 

“Because I’m looking at you,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her body to her thighs. “And still thinking about those garters. You should have _known_ better.” His fingers trailed up under the edge of her skirt until he found bare skin and groaned softly. “You know I find both you and lingerie irresistible. And the combination…you should have known better.”

 

Scully arched her hips towards his and lifted her head to nip at his bottom lip. “That door better be locked, Agent Mulder.”

 

“So locked, Scully. So incredibly locked.”

 

The End


	35. It’s almost midnight and you haven’t said anything cute at all

You can't spend nearly all day, every day, with another person and not get a little annoyed once in awhile. Every so often, one or both of them which reach their limit of the others presence and things would come to a head.  Someone would break and maybe a fast-burning argument would burst forth out of the snap, but eventually it would just fade back to normal as though it never happened.

 

It was Scully's turn in the cycle. For whatever reason, everything Mulder said that day really aggravated her. They'd spent four hours in the car together and all she'd heard the entire time from him were sarcastic barbs about the difficulties of dealing with their upcoming file audit and how pointless it all was.

 

“Would you just..” she said.

 

“Would I just?” he asked.

 

“The sound of your voice right now…” She shook her head and turned to look out the window.

 

“Makes you tingle in all the right places?”

 

“Makes me sick in all the wrong ones. Stop talking.”

 

“Really?”

 

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  “If you would please, just shut the hell up for the rest of the day, I would be grateful.”

 

He pursed his lips and then rubbed them together in silence.  After a few moments of brooding, he took one hand off the steering wheel and reached into his pocket.  The only sound for the rest of the drive was the cracking of sunflower seeds.

 

Mulder kept mum as Scully checked them into their motel. Their case was closed, this was merely a stopover on the way home.  Maybe she was so annoyed because it was already past dinner time and they still had a six hour drive ahead of them in the morning.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked as they both unlocked the doors to their side-by-side room.

 

He held up a brochure for pizza delivery he'd picked up in the manager's office and raised his brows.

 

“As long as half of its vegetarian,” she answered and he nodded before closing his door.

 

Not much more than half an hour later, there was a knock on the connecting door in Scully's room. She opened it and Mulder held up a pizza box and a can of Diet Coke in front of her.  She took them both and then leaned into the doorway when he started to retreat.  There was a plate of pizza and a Coke already on his table.

 

“You don't want to eat together?” she asked.

 

He shrugged and gestured towards the table in invitation.  She rolled her eyes a little and sighed.

 

“Okay, you're mad at me,” she said. “I get it.”

 

He shook his head, smiling, and then reached up and drew his pinched index finger and thumb across his lips, twisted them slightly at the edge of his mouth and then flicked an imaginary key out into the ether.

 

“Fine,” she said.  “I'll see you in the morning.”

 

She shut the connecting door and sulked, eating at her own table alone. It was nice not to have to fight for the remote and which of the 26 channels they were going to watch, but she would also have to admit that was just part of the fun at the end of the day.  It bothered her he was taking this so seriously.  That was one of the things she liked best about her partner - how unlikely he was to hold a grudge over their little spats.  Usually these things rolled off his shoulders so easily.

 

After dinner and a shower and making her way through two chapters of the paperback she’d brought along for the case, she decided to go to bed. She could hear the muffled sound from the TV in Mulder's room, which was so common as to be a lullaby, but she didn't sleep.  She tossed and turned and after looking at the clock for the umpteenth time, she got out of bed and knocked on his door.

 

The volume on the TV went low and she heard rustling. After a few more moments he opened the door and she looked past him to see the rumpled sheets, but the light and TV were on and he was bright eyed so she was pretty sure she didn't wake him.

 

“May I come in?” she asked.

 

He opened the door wider and lifted his arm higher while keeping his grip on the frame.  She ducked under his arm and sat down on the edge of his bed, waiting for his trademark comment about fraternizing after hours in motel rooms, but he said nothing and crawled back into bed and adjusted the pillows behind his back against the headboard.

 

“Speak!” she commanded.

 

He smiled and shook his head.  She crossed her arms.

 

“Dammit Mulder, it's almost midnight and you haven't said anything cute at all.”

 

He raised his brows.

 

She sighed.  “You know what I mean,” she mumbled.

 

He reached his hand out and wiggled his fingers at her.  She twisted her shoulder away and he bent forward and grabbed her arm, tugging her up the bed towards him.  She put up a bit of resistance, but then acquiesced, scooting closer until she was sitting beside his hip.  He turned his puppy dog eyes on and lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her wrist.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I love your voice.  I miss your voice.  Please, talk to me.”

 

He let go of her hand and tapped his bottom lip with one finger.  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss and pulled back with an expectant look on her face.  He squinted in thought and then tugged on his ear and fluttered his fingers up her arm.

 

“I don’t want to play charades,” she said.

 

He kept fluttering his fingers and then waggled his brows at her until she rolled her eyes.

 

“Okay, Mulder,” she said.  “Your voice makes me tingle in all the right places.”

 

He pounced on her, sending her back onto the mattress giggling as he peppered her face with small kisses.  “Didn’t think I could do it, did you?” he asked.  

 

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

 

“And disobey a direct order?”  He pulled his head back, feigning shock.  “Scully, I would  _ never _ .  And by the way, Agent, you know there are rules about fraternizing in your partner’s motel room.”

 

She grinned.  “Rules are made to be broken, Agent Mulder,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

 

The End


	36. Five thousand dollars?! // I said no, three times to be exact

Scully stood before her stove waiting for the water to boil for her tea.  She pressed a fist into the side of her lower back, just above her hip, where she’d felt a twinge of soreness all morning.  Her whole back was actually sore, but that spot in particular was giving her the most trouble.  Out in the living room, she could hear Mulder talking to the TV.

 

“Five thousand dollars?!” he exclaimed.  “What are you some kind of idiot?  One dollar, Bob, one dollar!”

 

She yawned and poured hot water into her coffee mug.  The tea bag inside bobbed up to the surface and she poked it down with a spoon.  She added just a bit of honey and took the mug with her to wait for the tea to steep.

 

“What are you watching?” she asked, sliding a magazine across the coffee table to use as a coaster for her tea.  Currently, a commercial for laundry detergent was on.

 

“The Price is Right,” he answered, trying to take her elbow to help her sit, but she swatted his hand away and eased down into the spot beside him.

 

He’d been a lot more interested in her health and well-being since the scare with the abruption.  More importantly, he’d been a lot more interested in the baby.  They’d been to two Lamaze classes together and he was more attentive than she’d ever seen him.  The instructor might as well have been giving a presentation on EBEs.  He’d even asked questions.

 

Scully groaned a little as she realized her tea was too far away and doing little things like bending and reaching now required a lot of effort.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mulder asked, immediately alarmed.

 

“I can’t reach my tea.”

 

“Oh.”  He visibly relaxed and picked up the mug for her and brought it into her hands.  “I think it’s too hot.  Maybe you should wait.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

His fretfulness was sweet, but it was also a little annoying.  Earlier that morning, when he’d first shown up at her door, he was eager to do her bidding with whatever task she would give him and she could tell she’d disappointed him when she had nothing in mind.  Then, he’d pestered her with asking if she was sure she didn’t need anything so many times that she finally had to sit him down and gently, but firmly, tell him, “I said no, three times to be exact, just in the last five minutes.  I’m fine.  The baby’s fine.  We don’t need anything at the moment, but thank you for asking.”

 

After that, she’d put her remote in his hand and went to take a shower.  After the shower, she made tea, and now, here they were, watching The Price is Right on a Tuesday morning with nothing better to do since he was unemployed and she was on maternity leave.

 

She shifted in discomfort and winced as her back protested.  He went on alert again and sat up.  In his eyes, she could see how badly he wanted to ask if she was all right as she twisted and rolled her shoulders.

 

“Back hurts,” she said.

 

“Oh.”  He looked her over and reached out a little hesitantly and put his hand between her shoulder blades.  “I can, uh...you know from class when we...would you want me to rub your back?”

 

She was equally as hesitant to answer.  Yes, she would like it.  She would like it very much, but the awkwardness that now existed between them was a precarious situation.  He moved his hand lightly down her back while he waited for her answer and she finally nodded.  He looked pleasantly surprised.

 

“Scoot forward,” he said.  “Can you?  Just a bit?”

 

He held her tea for her as she pushed herself towards the front of the couch and then he gave the mug back to her as he managed to squeeze in behind her so she was sitting between his legs.  Immediately, he started with her shoulders, which any other time she would have appreciated, but her lower back was screaming at her and so, she rested the mug of tea on her knee, holding it one-handed as she reached back for his arm and guided his hand to the spot above her hip.

 

“Here?” he asked, twisting his knuckles into the muscle with light pressure.

 

“A little lower and a little to the left.  You can do it harder.  Yes, right there.”  She sighed in relief and closed her eyes for a moment as he managed to hit just the perfect spot with his thumb.

 

After a few moments, he shifted a little for a better angle and his free hand came around her waist to rest very lightly on the curve of her belly.  She smiled to herself as she wrapped both hands around her mug and brought it close to her mouth to blow the steam from the surface.

 

“I always wanted to play Plinko,” he said.  “Or the one where you shove those giant dice into monetary order.”

 

She took a break from cooling her tea to test the temperature with the tip of her tongue.  Still a little too hot.  “I liked that little yodeling mountain climber,” she said.

 

“Would you rather be a contestant on The Price is Right or Let’s Make a Deal?”

 

“Definitely The Price is Right.”

 

“Me too.”

 

The baby kicked suddenly, just below where Mulder’s hand rested and she tensed for a moment from surprise.  He stilled his massage at her reaction and she shook her head a little, cupping one hand around her mug to take his hand and slide it down to the right spot and pressed lightly.  The baby kicked again in response and she felt Mulder give a jolt of surprise behind her.

 

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

 

“No, it doesn’t hurt.”

 

“Wow, Scully…”

 

“I know.”

 

He kept his hand in place and started to massage again.  She sipped her tea and closed her eyes in appreciation.  The Price is Right ended and The Young and the Restless started.  She turned off the TV during the theme song.

 

“How do you know I didn’t want to watch that?” Mulder teased.

 

“It’s bad enough you sit around watching game shows and Oprah.  I can’t let you spiral into soap operas as well.”

 

“I always appreciated you looking out for my best interests.”  He leaned closer and his chest pressed against her back as he rested his chin on her shoulder.  “You’re going to be a great mom.”

 

There was a sting in her eyes and nose and she swallowed the lump that rose in her throat.  “Thank you,” she whispered into her tea.

 

He leaned away to continue his massage and she closed her eyes to pretend this was her everyday life.

  
The End


	37. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 46\. Fever

 

 

Mulder had been unusually quiet all day.  At first, Scully thought he might be up to something, but when he refused lunch, very unlike him, she started to get a little worried.  She started to pay closer attention to him and noticed how listless he was.

 

“What’s going on with you, Mulder?” she asked.

 

“Nothing.”  Even his shrug was slow and heavy.

 

Suspicious, she walked up to his desk and put the back of her hand to his forehead.  His eyes drooped and he didn’t even try to pull away.

 

“You have a fever,” she said.

 

“Not a very scientific is it, Dr. Scully?”

 

“I can pull out a thermometer if you’d like, just to tell me what we both already know.”

 

Mulder sighed and finally ducked away from her hand.  She didn’t let him get away that easily though, she put three fingers on each side of his neck and felt the area just behind and below his ears.  He grimaced.

 

“Your glands are swollen,” she said, leaning back against his desk and folding her arms across her chest.  “What other symptoms do you have.”

 

“Just tired.”

 

“And achy?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“What are you doing here if you have the flu?”

 

“I don’t have the flu.”

 

Scully raised her right eyebrow.

 

“Maybe just a little flu,” he admitted.

 

“Mulder, there is no such thing as a little flu.  You need to go home, drink lots of fluids, and get into bed.”

 

“But, I don’t wanna.”

 

Scully shrugged and leaned over to pick up his desk phone.

 

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

 

“Calling Skinner.”

 

Quickly, Mulder jammed his thumb into the hook switch to hang up the phone.  “We don’t need to do that,” he said.

 

“Then you need to go home.”

 

“I’ll get bored.”

 

“You’ll be sleeping.”

 

“Are you bluffing?  Will you really call Skinner?”

 

She raised her brow again.  The phone was still in her hand and Mulder’s thumb was still on the switch.  Yes, she was bluffing, but he didn’t need to know that.  He sighed and his shoulders slumped.  His hand fell from the phone and she put it back in the cradle.

 

“Come on,” she said, pulling him to his feet.  “Let’s go.”

 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

 

“Taking you home and making sure you stay in bed.”

 

“How do you think you’re going to do that?”

 

“I have my ways, Agent Mulder.  I have my ways.”

 

If she didn’t know better, she’d say there was a little bit of a spring in his step and less drag as she pushed him out the door.

  
The End


	38. Not wearing that & Pool

 

“Scully, wait,” Mulder called, stopping her from getting any farther.

 

Scully turned just as Mulder pulled a hanger from a rack and held up a scrap of material against his chest.  She put her hands on her hips, annoyed.

 

“This is serious, Mulder.”

 

“I am serious!” He moved closer to her and held the hanger in his hand up to her chest.

 

“Absolutely not,” she said.

 

“The clubhouse has a pool. It'll be the perfect place to mingle and gather information the day before.”

 

“I don’t disagree with you, but there’s no way I’m wearing that.”

 

“You’re right, turquoise isn't your color.”  He put the hanger back and pulled out another.  “Navy?”

 

“Mulder, put down the bikinis and help me.”  Scully paused as though time had just stopped and then she dropped her head and rubbed her forehead. “I can't believe that's a sentence I just said out loud.”

 

Mulder flipped through the swimsuits on the rack while Scully questioned her agreement to go undercover.  “I am helping,” he said.  “We're here to shop for this assignment. I'm shopping.”

 

“We're here for a dress and tuxedo  _ only _ .”

 

“I just think it would be a good idea to be prepared.”  He returned the navy bikini to the rack and pulled out another.  “How about black?  Black is nice.”

 

Scully looked the swimsuit over.  It was actually decent.  “It is nice,” she admitted, and then straightened her shoulders and doubled down on her protest.  “The color isn't the problem, or the point!  No bikinis.”

 

“I think you would look really…”

 

She raised her brow, daring him to finish his thought, but he shut his mouth.  He couldn’t suppress his smile though, and the faraway look in his eyes.  The smile grew wider and wider until it was a full-fledged idiotic grin.

 

“Stop picturing it in your mind!” she ordered.  She should just walk away.  Why didn't she just walk away?

 

“Oh once it's there, it's not leaving.  You're in this little black thing,” he shook the bikini in his hand by her face.  “Lounging on one of those pool rafts, sipping a mai tai out of a pineapple.  Sunglasses.  Hair in a ponytail.”

 

“Do I have my own personal cabana boy in this fantasy.”

 

“You need help putting on sunscreen?  I could do that for you.”

 

“Some other time.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Dress.  Tuxedo.  Now, Mulder.”

 

Mulder reluctantly put the bikini back and looked at them all longingly.  She waited a beat before she took it off the rack and turned to walk away.

 

“Wouldn't hurt to try it on though,” she called over her shoulder.  “Coming, Mulder?”

  
The End


	39. Blood & puppy love

 

 

Scully had never been in her mother’s attic before.  She was in med school when they moved to the Baltimore house, engrossed in exams, so Bill and Charlie had been the ones to help move their parents in.  There was never any reason to go up there.  Now, since the house needed to be prepared to sell, it had to be cleaned and cleared.  Mulder offered his help and she’d gratefully accepted, still not quite able to be in the house alone.

 

They’d gone room by room, sorting knick knacks, furniture, and clothes into piles for donating, keeping, or throwing away.  The bedroom had been the hardest for her.  It just felt wrong going through her mother’s things..

 

The last room left was the attic.  Mulder pulled down the collapsible stairs from the ceiling and they headed up into the dust and stale air.  It was cold up there and Scully was glad she’d worn an old sweatshirt to protect against the dirt and chill.

 

“It’s actually pretty tidy,” Mulder remarked, looking at all the boxes stacked and clearly labeled.

 

Scully sneezed.

 

“Except for the dust,” he added.  “How do you want to do this?”

 

“I don’t know if I can last up here.  I think we need to get the boxes out first and then we can open them up downstairs.”

 

“You go down and I’ll lower them to you.”

 

A little over an hour later, all the boxes were out of the attic, stacked just as neatly in the hall and the guest room off the hall, organized and grouped by label.  Scully used a utility knife to cut through the tape on a box labeled CHRISTMAS and passed the knife to Mulder.  He used it to cut open a box labeled DANA.

 

“Some of this is falling apart,” she said, pulling out a white tablecloth that was stained with age.  “Except for our first Christmas ornaments, this should probably all just be tossed.”

 

“Up to you,” he said, poking through the DANA box.

 

“There was an angel tree topper though.  I think my grandparents gave it to Mom and Dad on their first Christmas together.”

 

“Oh, look what I found.”  Mulder pulled out a high school yearbook from the box with a grin and flipped it open to the front cover.  “‘To the most bitchin’ babe to walk the halls of SDH.  Call me for some summer luv.  Marcus.”

 

“It does not say that.”

 

Mulder turned the cover for Scully to look at and she left her box to stand next to him as he flipped through the pages.  He found her senior portrait and laughed as she groaned and tried to cover it up.  He pushed her hand away and read her bio.

 

“Dana K. Scully.  Math club.  Science Club.  Forensics.”

 

“Forensics was speech and debate.”

 

“I know.  Poetry club.   _ Poetry _ , Scully?  Really?”

 

“It was a phase.”

 

Mulder lifted the yearbook up over his head and looked down into the box.  “With any luck, some of those masterpieces will be in this box.”

 

“God, I hope not.”

 

“Latin club,” he continued.  “ASB Secretary.  ‘There are no such things as applied sciences, only applications of science - Louis Pasteur’”  He chuckled and closed the book.  “Wos, Scully, you really were a huge nerd.”

 

She shoved his shoulder and went back to the Christmas box.  He knew he should have just left DANA alone and opened one of the other boxes labeled BOOKS or SCULLY CHINA, but he was more interested in exploring Scully’s childhood.  He laughed as he unrolled a small poster of Donny Osmond.

 

“And they call it, puppy lo-o-o-ove,” he sang to her, holding the poster of Donny over his face.

 

“Everyone loved The Osmonds,” she argued.  “You can’t tell me you didn’t have a thing for Marie.”

 

“Actually, I was partial to Laurie Partridge.”

 

“People used to tell Charlie he looked like Danny Partridge so Bill convinced him he was the youngest Partridge that had been given up for adoption because he couldn’t sing.”

 

“That’s mean.”  Mulder chuckled anyway.

 

Scully rifled through yellowing boxes of cracked ornaments and smiled as she listened to Mulder hum under his breath.

 

“I woke up in love this mornin’,” he whisper-sang.  “I woke up in love this mornin’.  Went to bed with you on my mind.  Shit.”

 

Scully looked over as Mulder shoved the side of his thumb in his mouth.

 

“Cardboard cut,” he mumbled around his thumb.

 

“Let me see.”  She moved to his side and touched his wrist as he lowered his wet thumb from his mouth, glistening with saliva and blood.  “There are Band-Aids in my bag.”

 

Mulder nodded and put his thumb back in his mouth as he wandered out.

 

“Wash it first!” she called after him.

 

Half-heartedly, she finished rummaging through the first Christmas box and then put it aside to be thrown out.  She looked around at what remained.  She’d have Mulder take the box with her name on it and Melissa’s out to the car to take home.  He could finish getting a kick out of her things later - she was pretty sure there was a diary in there somewhere and a notebook of high school poetry.  They just didn’t have time for it right now.  They could send Bill and Charlie’s boxes to them without opening.

 

It made her sad to think of a life reduced to a few pieces of furniture to pass down and boxes of junk no one wanted or needed.  Her eyes began to water and she wiped them with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.  She felt Mulder’s hand on her back and she took a deep breath and dropped her arms.  He rubbed her back in slow circles.

 

“We can finish this later,” he said.

 

“The realtor will be here tomorrow.  It has to be today.”

 

“Okay.”  He wrapped his arms around her and she turned to lay her head against his chest.

 

“I’m okay,” she said.

 

He rested his chin on her head.  “Okay.”

 

She pulled back and stretched up to kiss his neck.

 

“Want me to sing some more hits of the 70’s for you?” he asked.

 

“I’d rather you go through those boxes of books and see if there’s anything worth keeping.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He kissed her temple and let her go.  She caught his hand and pulled her back to him.  “Hey,” she said, quietly.  “I’m not gonna sing, but I woke up in love this morning too.”

 

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her again.

  
The End


	40. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Redux II

 

 

He had become accustomed to discreetly watching Scully very closely.  For the past few months he had been on constant alert for any sign she might need a break or a kind word.  His attempts at both had gotten him chewed out on more than one occasion, but still he watched as she suffered in stoic silence, refusing to let him in.

 

When there was nothing to look for anymore, he still watched.  Because maybe it was a fluke, or maybe the doctors were wrong.  Maybe the chip was only a temporary solution.  If the worst case scenario happened and she came out of remission, he wanted to catch the warning signs right away.  It would give him more time to do something.

 

She was unusually quiet that morning, which put him on high alert.  Her mind drifted from the autopsy report she was transcribing and several times he caught her staring into space, fingers idle on her keyboard.  She even let her coffee get cold next to her.  He hadn’t seen her take but one or two sips.

 

“Everything okay?” Mulder asked in one of the silences.

 

“Why do you ask?” she returned, and her fingers began to tap on the keyboard again.

 

“You’re quiet today.”

 

She stopped and tilted her head.  Her eyes focused on a fixed point somewhere on the wall.  “I had a strange dream,” she finally said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“I keep thinking about it.”

 

“What was it about?”

 

“I was flying.”

 

“Were you a bird?”

 

“No.  I don’t think so.  I think I was just myself.”

 

Mulder got up and casually strolled over to his bookshelves and took a paperback from the middle.  “Where did you fly to?” he asked, thumbing backwards through the book from the middle and then stopped to flip pages.

 

“I didn’t have a destination.  I was just flying.  Around the city, over my apartment, over your apartment.  The beach.”

 

“Low flying or high flying?”

 

“High, I guess.  High enough to be above buildings and trees.  But, compared to what?”

 

“That’s probably high enough to be considered high.”  He sat down at his desk and bent the sides of the book back so that the spine cracked, but it rested flat on the surface.  “Flying dreams represent control over a situation.  You have risen above an obstacle and your ability to fly is a representation of power gained.”

 

“Hm.”  She shifted in her seat and ran her fingers over her keyboard.

 

“Flight also represents freedom, hope, and unexplored possibilities,” he continued.  “It can also be indicative of a strong will and a reminder that you have the ability to accomplish anything you set your mind to.  Flying dreams seem to provide excellent motivation and renewal of self-confidence.”

 

She was quiet for a few moments and her thumb caressed the space bar on her keyboard.  “Does it really say that?” she asked.

 

“Do you want to read it?”  He pushed the book across his desk towards her and she shook her head.  He pulled it back.  “Were you ever afraid in your dream?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay, we can skip that part.  Were the trees or buildings in your dream like obstacles?”

 

“No, they were just there.”

“Sounds like a pretty cool dream.”

 

“You don’t really believe in dream analysis, do you?”

 

“I believe a dream is an answer to a question-” 

 

“- that we haven’t yet learned how to ask.  I remember.”

 

“The subconscious has a way of...processing information for us.”

 

“I need to get back to this autopsy report.”

 

“Sure.”

 

She turned back to her computer and he looked down at the last paragraph that he didn’t read to her.   _ Sometimes, dreams of flying occur when the dreamer has been under greater amounts of pressure than usual - pressure to perform at work, home, socially, financially, or emotionally.  It is common to dream of flying as a way of working out resentment against these pressures and coping with the strong desire to be free from them _ .

 

Mulder closed the book and took it back to the bookshelf.  He touched Scully’s shoulder lightly on his way back to his desk.

 

“It’s pizza day today,” he said.  “In case you forgot.”

 

“I remember.”

  
The End


	41. in the snow & hold my hand

 

They weren’t quite sure what to expect from the first winter in the new house.  It was one thing to be in a city, full of cars and plows and people, where snow was an inconvenience on a bad day, but never much more than that.  It was another to be in the middle of nowhere, the nearest house a half hour drive, and the nearest store almost an hour.  Solitude is what they wanted, so solitude they got.

 

The news said to expect up to sixteen inches before the end of the day.  Mulder had never seen such fat snowflakes in all his life, even having grown up in New England.  He stood at the window marveling at it, but also feeling a bit apprehensive about it.  He shouldn’t.  They had stocked up on canned goods just a few days ago, and bought a few cords of firewood from a vendor off the highway with a handwritten sign nailed to a tree.  They were as comfortable and safe as they could be.

 

He felt Scully move up behind him and rest her head against his arm.  Her hand moved down his spine from neck to low back and then she twisted the end of his thermal shirt in her fingers.  He sipped his coffee and continued to watch the snow.

 

“Good thing we don’t have anywhere to be,” she said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

A few more tugs on his shirt and then she straightened and gave a small sigh.

 

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

 

“Why are you sorry?”

 

“That we don’t have anywhere to be.”

 

“But, we don’t have anywhere to be, together.”

 

“Is that enough for you?”

 

“It’s always been enough for me.  Is it enough for you?”

 

He looked down into his coffee and shrugged.  “Yeah, I think it is.”

 

“Mulder, this might sound silly to you, but will you do me a favor?”

 

“Anything, Scully.”

 

“Will you hold my hand?”

 

He set his coffee down on the end table nearby and slipped his warm fingers into her cooler ones.  She wove her arm through his and pressed her face against his bicep.  They watched the snow together.

  
The End


	42. secret admirer & Not wearing that & blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati

 

Scully wasn’t surprised that Mulder beat her to the office.  He’d probably been counting down the minutes until the end of the his medical leave and shown up precisely at midnight since it technically marked the day he was cleared to return.

 

“You’re here early,” she said, setting her briefcase down inside the doorway to remove her coat.

 

“Early bird catches the worm,” he answered, cracking a sunflower seed between his teeth at the same time.

 

“What time did you get here, Mulder?”  She shook her jacket by the collar to displace a few snowflakes and hung it on the coatrack.

 

“Seven-ish.”

 

“What have you been doing all this time?”

 

“I’ve been gone three weeks.  Who knows what kind of sewer monsters have cropped up in my absence.”

 

“There’s no such thing as sewer monsters.”  

 

“Tell that to the flukeman.”

 

Scully went to his side of the desk first and looked closely at Mulder’s forehead.  Very gently, she pushed his hair back with her fingers and traced around the scabbed wound that was still visible.  She frowned a little.

 

“You should be wearing a bandage,” she said.

 

“I’m not wearing that anymore.”

 

“Just a small one.  The scab looks fresh still.”

 

“Head wounds bleed a lot, you know.”

 

“I know.”  Her fingers sifted through his hair again and he closed his eyes. It soothed her as much as it did him.  His hair was soft and a bit choppy in places where the rushed shave they'd given him hadn't quite grown back yet.  She was afraid it'd hurt if she touched the scar on the left side of his head but she could see it under the short hair that barely covered it.  At least they'd done a good job with the stitches.

 

She stilled her hand at the top of his head and closed her own eyes.

 

“Relax, Doc,” he said.  “I’m fine.”

 

She lingered over his head a little longer and then turned away with a sigh.  Mulder went back to his files and seeds and she set her bag down in her chair.  On her desk was a small, blue gift bag, overflowing with grey tissue paper.  

 

“What’s this?” she asked, poking at the tissue paper with a fingernail.

 

He broke another seed and flipped through a file.  “Must have a secret admirer.”

 

She eyed him suspiciously and sifted blindly through the tissue paper with one hand, expecting another keychain, or maybe he'd finally made good on the promise of alien implant earrings.  She felt something cool and smooth and solid under her fingers.  It was heavy, too.  She pulled it out and let it sit in the palm of her hand.  It was a black stone, perfectly polished and oblong like a flattened egg.  She ran her thumb over it and then turned it over.  The other side had the word ‘believe’ written in small white letters.

 

“It reminded me of you,” he said.

 

When she looked over at him, he had his eyes on his desk.  “Thank you,” she said, quietly.

 

“There’s a woman in New Mexico that claims her goat can predict the future.”

 

“Psychic goats, Mulder?  That’s what you want to start back with?”

 

He shrugged.  “Beats sewer monsters.”

 

She moved her bag and sat down at her table to boot up her laptop.  As she waited, she ran her fingers over the stone.   _ You were my constant _ , she heard Mulder whisper in her ear.   _ My touchstone _ .  She turned around and watched him peruse his file and crack a few more seeds, warming the stone with the heat of her hand.

 

“Tell me about the psychic goat,” she said.

  
The End


	43. Tongue-tied & happy birthday

 

Scully remembered his birthday every single year.  Even his own mother didn’t remember his birthday, but Scully did.  The first year she came into the office with a card and a cupcake he felt a little tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say.  Inside, he was brimming with gratitude, but he couldn’t tell her that.  He just said something sarcastic and then tried to make up for it by sharing the cupcake.

 

The keychain was not the first time he remembered her birthday.  It was just the first time he worked up the courage to give her the gift he got.  In his closet, there is actually a bag of still-wrapped presents that he never gave her because he chickened out.  He thought he was being so clever with the keychain, that she’d never know the real meaning behind it.  Damn her, of course she knew.

 

He had no objection to giving gifts.  If she would let him, he would shower her with gifts of all kinds, but what he strived for was something unique, something unforgettable, something meaningful that wasn’t bath products or jewelry.  In twenty-three years, he never felt like he found it.

 

The year they were back together and back on the X-Files, he finally came up with something.  He had to put his eidetic memory to the test and it took him awhile to put together, so much so that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to finish it in time, but he did and he brought it with him to the office on the morning of her birthday, wrapped and ready. 

 

“Mulder,” she murmured bashfully, scratching through the paper to open her present.  “What did you do?”

 

He shrugged and watched her page through the leather bound journal.

 

“What is this?” she whispered.

 

“It’s everything.”  He shrugged again.  “Everything I remember about you.  Us.  Good or bad.  It’s everything.”

 

“March 6, 1992, you walked into my life,” she read.  She thumbed through the book and stopped at random.  “December 25, 1997, I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest when you called and told me about your little girl.”

 

Scully closed the book and hugged it to her chest.  “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

 

“Had to make up for all those years I missed somehow.  Happy birthday, Scully.”

  
The End


	44. Last Dance

 

Mulder definitely considers taking back what he told Scully earlier - he could never live in a town that couldn't get a decent reception on TV.  He fiddles with the radio and finds a station playing oldies.  Laying back on the bed, he wonders when today's hits will become tomorrow's oldies.  How old does a song have to be to be old?

 

Wonderful Wonderful by Johnny Mathis comes on.  He wonders what Scully is doing.  He wonders what kind of music she likes and then thinks it's strange he doesn't know.  His mother used to play this kind of music in the kitchen when she made lunch for him and Samantha - back when she was still a mother and not a shell of a woman who used to be a wife and mother.  He wonders if Scully will be the kind of mom that dances around the kitchen to the oldies making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off.  He can see it.

 

The walls are so think he can hear the phone ring in her room when he calls her.  He lowers the volume on the radio a notch before she picks up.

 

“What're you doing?” he asks.

 

“Reviewing the autopsy notes on Baby Doe.”

 

“Come back and listen to music with me.”

 

“I can hear it just fine through the wall.”

 

“Is it bothering you?”

 

“No, it's not bothering me.”

 

“Come back. You can bring your notes if you want to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because this is the kind of music you have to listen to with a pretty girl parked on a deserted scenic overlook.”

 

“Your room hardly qualifies as a scenic overlook.”

 

He notices she doesn't acknowledge the pretty girl part of his plea. “Well,” he says.  “If you don't want to.”

 

She sighs into the phone and hangs up.  A few minutes later she knocks on his unlocked door, barefoot, pantsuit exchanged for flannel pajamas, and a folder in her hand. Her hair is in a ponytail like a bobbysoxer.  It's fitting.

 

He flops back on the bed and she sits cross-legged at the end.  She asks him when they'll be meeting Sheriff Taylor and The Four Seasons ask Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

 

“Scully, did you know that Elvis’s first number one hit was a country song?”

 

“I can't say that I did.”

 

He rolls onto his side to look at her just as Otis Redding is Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.  “I can't whistle,” he says.  “Did you know that?”

 

“You can't?”

 

She turns her head to watch him try and smiles as he fails.  

 

“You left that out of your genetic history,” she says.

 

“Does it lower my chances?”

 

“For what?”

 

He shrugs. “Can you whistle?”

 

She pauses and then whistles along with the song for a few measures.  He wants to know if she can also yodel or tie a cherry stem into a knot, but he doesn't ask.  She probably can.

 

He lays back and looks at the ceiling when Percy Sledge starts telling the world what it's like When a Man Loves a Woman.  He wonders what Scully would say if he asks her to dance.  He imagines her doing The Twist and he chuckles to himself.

 

“What're you laughing at?” she asks.

 

“I was wondering what you'd say if I asked you to dance.”  He leaves out The Twist.

 

“And it made you laugh?”

 

He rolls over again, props himself up on his elbow. “Would you say yes?”

 

She shrugs. He stands and turns the radio back up a little more and holds his hand out.  

 

“Miss Scully,” he says.  “Will you do me the honor.”

 

“You're ridiculous.”  She smiled though, and lets him pull her out of her cross-legged position to stand in front of him.  

 

One hand is in his, the other is on his shoulder.  His free hand is at her hip.  They're a foot apart, at least.

 

“Leave room for the Holy Ghost, right?” he asks.  “Isn't that how they do it in Catholic school?”

 

“Just afraid you'll step on me.”

 

He looks down at her bare toes and his brown socks.  “You can hop on if you're worried,” he says.

 

“Keep it up Mulder, our first dance will be our last dance.”

 

“You wouldn't give me a second chance to make a first impression?”

 

“Can you dance better than you whistle?”

 

He can dance. Not because of genetic proclivity, but because his blue blood upbringing demanded it.  He lifts her arm with his so it rests in a more proper frame and his hand slides up her side to her ribs.  Her hand relaxes in his as he leads.  He was afraid for a minute she wouldn't let him lead, but it looks like she knows how to dance too.

 

You've Really Got a Hold on Me, he hums along and turns her once under his arm before he pulls her in as The Miracles demand. Tighter.  She laughs like he isn't serious and he laughs because he actually is.  

 

Songs were too short back in the day, he thinks as he has to let her go.  Can't really dance to Big Girls Don't Cry.

 

“Do I pass muster?” he asks.

 

“I'd let you ask me again.”  She turns and picks up her file.  “I really need to…”

 

“Go.  I'll turn down the music.”

 

“Leave it on,” she says as she opens the door to leave.  “I'll just listen with you from the other side.”

 

He smiled and turns it up another notch before he flips back down on the bed.  

 

The End


	45. Waiting // Hope // Separation // Coming Home

 

The Separation is unbelievable, at first.  He's accustomed to having her gone for long stretches of time, so it takes awhile to sink in.  She threw out accusations before she left, stunning him into silence.  He couldn't even make a protest, but what did she know about how he spent his days?  She was at the hospital five, six, ten days in a row and only came to the house when she had a full forty-eight hours to spare.  So what if his pile of clippings had grown, it was contained within the four walls of the office, just as he promised.  He had to do something with his days, didn't he?

 

He keeps waiting.  Waiting and cutting, waiting and cutting, and soon, since it's not like she's there to argue, the clippings bleed out into the living area.  Hey, Scully, what's black and white and red all over?  A newspaper...with my ripped out heart lying on top.

 

There's hope in every infrequent call she makes.  She cares enough to know he might need her voice.  He needs more than her voice so he doesn't let her hear the scissors in the background.  I'm fine.  No, I don't need anything.  The window upstairs still doesn't close right, but it's spring anyways and not cold anymore.  Don't send anyone out.

 

She says she's coming home.  Not to stay, just for a visit.  She doesn't use those exact words.  “I'd like to come out to the house today, Mulder.  If that's alright with you.”  It's not alright, but he can't say no.  He looks around at the piles of chopped up newspaper and the clippings that now wallpaper the living room all the way up the stairs.  Even if he tears everything down, the holes from the tacks will give him away.  There isn't an unsoiled dish left in the cabinet.  He can't remember the last time he shaved.  He doesn't want her to see him like this.  He doesn't want her to be right.  He's not depressed.  He isn't lonely.  He can take care of himself.  He's not pathetic.  He just doesn't have anything else to do.

  
The End


	46. Is that my food?! You ate my food?!

She had been on her feet for twelve hours straight.  Twelve hours of y-incisions, cranial saws, and organ weighing.  Twelve hours, four autopsies and almost no sleep.  Twelve hours and an apple between bodies number two and three.  

 

Scully peeled off her sweaty scrubs and slipped her aching body into the pantsuit she hung up in the locker when she came in.  She was so tired and hungry she was fantasizing about pizza.  And pizza was never her first choice, but it was easy and it was quick.  As she buttoned her blouse, she envisioned herself in a hot bath, a pizza box balanced on the edge of the tub, and a slice of pizza hanging from her mouth.

 

“Finished Dr. Scully,” the field agent assigned to type her notes looked up as she left the locker room into the morgue office.  She was young and eager.  A little too eager for Scully’s taste, but she meant well.

 

“For today,” she answered.  “Is there anywhere to get a pizza around here?”

 

“They keep delivery menus in that file cabinet over there.”

 

“Perfect,” Scully whispered to herself.  She found a pizza place, put in an order for a large pie with mushroom and peppers, and with any luck, it would be at the motel around the same time as she would be.

 

The rental car Mulder had for the day was parked in front of their rooms when the cab dropped her off, which meant he was back.  She touched the hood on the way to her door.  It was cold, so he’d likely been back for awhile.  If she was feeling generous after she got out of her heels, maybe she’d invite him over for some pizza.

 

As soon as she opened her motel room, she stepped out of her shoes and pulled off her blazer.  The room was warm, thankfully, because her fingers were cold and numb.  She gave a short rap on their connecting doors and a muffled ‘come in’ was the reply from the other side.

 

“Just wanted you to know I’m back,” she said, opening the door.

 

And she saw red.  There Mulder was, reclined on his bed in his undershirt and dress pants, with an open pizza box and a half eaten slice of pizza in his hand.  There was pizza sauce on his chin and mouth.  The TV was on some sort of nature documentary with screaming chimpanzees in the background.

 

“I was about to send out a search party,” Mulder said.

 

“Is that my food?!” she barked, marching into his room and pointing an accusatory finger at him.  “You ate my food?!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Jesus, Mulder, I was on my feet for twelve hours.  Twelve hours.  I had an apple exactly seven hours ago and I’ve been up to my elbows in small intestines and stomach contents and brain matter and all I wanted to do was get back to this fleabag of a motel, take a hot bath or a hot shower, and eat my pizza in peace!”

 

“Um, Scully, I didn’t-”

 

“You didn’t what?  Didn’t know?”  She fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him.  “You think pizza just shows up unannounced, out of the blue, and it’s yours?”

 

There was a knock on Scully’s door, interrupting her rant.  She whirled around, mumbling ‘now what?’ as she strode back through the connecting doors to the entrance.  She yanked it open without even checking the peephole and faced a pimply-faced teen in a Pie Guys uniform, pizza box in hand.

 

The color drained out of her face and she stared at the young man for a few moments too long, obviously making him uncomfortable.  Without a word, she grabbed her wallet and over tipped the teen before taking the box and shutting the door.  Slowly, she turned and trudged bashfully back into Mulder’s room.

 

“So, um,” she said.

 

“Great minds think alike, eh?” Mulder said, amusement in his tone and in his slight smile.

 

“I guess I owe you an apology,” she answered, her eyes downcast.

 

Mulder scooted over on the bed, dragging the pizza box with him and then he patted the empty spot next to him.  “Sit down and eat before you get even more hangry than you already are,” he said.

 

Scully sighed and begrudgingly sat down with the pizza box on her lap.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Mulder said, turning his open pizza box towards her.  “I got half mushroom and green pepper on mine if you wanted to share.”

 

“Oh, Mulder.”  She sighed again.

 

“Just do me a favor, could you not mention intestines and brain matter while we’re eating?  It has a way of ruining the appetite.”

  
The End


	47. Don’t laugh. Do. Not. Laugh. This is not funny.

It was something Mulder had always dreamed of - teaching his son how to play baseball.  He bought a mitt for Will when the boy was only six months old and kept it oiled and waiting.  Waiting for the day it would fit his little hand and they could play catch.

 

He started the kid off small, with lightweight plastic wiffle balls and giant bats that would develop his hand-eye coordination.  Will took after Scully in the size department though, and he stayed small through his toddler years, into kindergarten and first grade.  When he was six, he had a growth spurt, finally able to fit in the glove and finally able to hold a real bat without dropping it to the floor.

 

Mulder started him off with the tee-ball, standing behind his son and showing him how to swing and follow through and keep his eye on the ball.  It took awhile for Will to be able to follow-through without falling over, but he got the hang of it eventually.  It also took him awhile to open his mitt to catch a ball and not close his hand and his eyes when it was thrown at him, or just run away, but he got that too.  And then it was time to learn how to hit a pitch.

 

“All right, Will,” Mulder said, backing up from where he’d situated the boy at home plate.  “Just like we practiced.  Keep your eye on the ball, keep your weight on your back leg, bend that elbow.”

 

“Hips before hands!” Scully called, from behind the fence.

 

“Stop your distracting!” Mulder called back.

 

“You ready, son?” Mulder asked.

 

“Okay.”

 

Mulder stepped back until he was a good eight feet away from the batter’s box and got ready to lob a soft pitch at Will.  “Eyes on the ball,” he said again, as he released an underhand throw straight down the center.

 

Will swung his bat, connected with the ball, and drove it directly into Mulder’s crotch.  Mulder dropped to the ground with a groan.  He grabbed his throbbing groin, in too much pain to even breathe.  When he looked up, Scully was above him, biting her lip.  She put her hands on his face and smoothed her thumbs across his brows.

 

“Breathe, Mulder,” she said, chuckling.  “Just breathe.”

 

““Don’t laugh.”  He groaned through gritted teeth.  “Do. Not. Laugh. This is not funny.”

 

“Dad, I hit it!” Will exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside Mulder.

 

Mulder cringed and rolled to one side, still holding his crotch for its own protection.  Scully rubbed his shoulder sympathetically, but kept chuckling.

 

“What’s wrong with Dad’s penis?” Will asked.

 

“Nothing!” Mulder protested.

 

“Your aim was a little too good, Sweetie.  Why don’t you go pick up your bat and get your glove.  We’re going to need to get Dad home and get him some ice.”

 

“Stop laughing,” Mulder said, as soon as Will was out of earshot.  “You have no idea.”

 

“I had a natural childbirth in the middle of a ghost town surrounded by super soldiers, Mulder.  We can talk about comparable pain when you’ve pushed an orange out of your urethra.”

 

“Give me your arm, let me help you up.”

 

“I can’t walk.  You’ll have to carry me.”  Mulder extended his arms up and Scully leaned down to let him embrace her and she kissed his ear.

 

“Get up, you big baby,” she whispered in his ear.  “Maybe later I’ll kiss it better.”

 

Mulder was on his feet faster than you could say ‘batter up!’

  
The End


	48. Delete that. Now.

 

Rarely did Scully have time to relax these days, but she woke early on a Sunday morning with nothing to do and nowhere to be.  Quietly, so as not to wake Mulder, she slipped out bed and put on a jacket over her (or rather, his) shirt.  She tucked her sweatpants into a pair of Uggs and clipped the leash onto a very wiggly and excited Daggoo to take him for an early morning walk.

 

“Don't bark,” Scully whispered to the dog.  “Do not bark.”

 

Daggoo didn’t bark, but he strained at his leash when she opened the door and practically dragged her down the front porch.  She thought she might head towards the lake with him to watch the sunrise.  The sky was still purple and grey with wisps of clouds in the distance.  The air was crisp and smelled of dew.

 

By the time she made it back to the house, the sun was burning bright and Daggoo was whining to be picked up.  She unclipped his leash and stepped out of her boots before hanging her jacket by the door.  The house was as quiet as when she left, so Mulder must still be asleep.

 

Quietly, Scully poured a bowl of kibble for the dog and started a pot of coffee for herself.  When that was finished, she curled up on the couch with an afghan and turned on the TV, setting the volume low.

 

Mulder's DVR was 86% full.  She scrolled through the eclectic group of shows, snorting when she passed a folder of saved episodes of Dark Shadows, because of course he would.  She also had to snicker at The Princess Bride and Romancing the Stone.  

 

“Finding Bigfoot,” she whispered to herself, stopping on one in the list.  “Of course you'd have a show called Finding Bigfoot.”

 

Curious, Scully pressed play and tried not to laugh through the intro. Daggoo hopped up onto the couch and pawed at a spot in her leg until she moved her arm and he could crawl into her lap.  The next moment, she nearly sprayed her coffee out all over the place.

 

“We’re here in the Great Smoky Mountains today with former special agent Fox Mulder of the FBIs x-files unit,” the host said, trudging through the woods in green night vision with Mulder beside him.  “He made a career of investigating Bigfoot sightings and other phenomena and he's here to help us today and offer insight into ‘squatch behavior.”

 

The scene cut to an interview with Mulder and the same host in a chair, chatting casually.  “Call it what you will,” Mulder said. “Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Skunk ape, Yeti, Wendigo, Mapingauri, almost every culture has a Bigfoot lore, and there is a basis of fact there. People say they want proof something exists, I say give me proof it  _ doesn't _ .  Couldn't we say the same for religion?  Has anyone seen God?  There's more proof that Bigfoot exists than God.”

 

“Oh, Jesus, Mulder,” Scully mumbled.  

 

After only a few minutes of more night vision wood combing, Scully turned the show off and then turned the TV off as well.  Her coffee started to get cold and Daggoo sighed in his sleep.

 

Not long after she shut everything off, the floorboards upstairs creaked and Mulder started down the stairs, heavy steps making Daggoo’s ears twitch.

 

“You're up early,” Mulder said through a yawn, scratching his abdomen over his shirt.

 

“You're just up late.”

 

“Is that coffee I smell?”

 

“I left the rest warning for you.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Scully listened to him rattle around in the kitchen for a few minutes before calling out to him, “Mulder?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“When were you in the Great Smoky Mountains.”

 

Mulder appeared in the doorway with a half-smile and leaned against the jamb as he sipped his coffee.  “You’re a fan of Finding Bigfoot, Scully?”

 

“It was on your DVR.”

 

“And you chose to watch it?”

 

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but you  _ chose _ to be on the episode.  Voluntarily.  How did they even find you?”

 

“I contacted them, actually.”

 

“Oh my God.”  Scully groaned and put a hand over her face for a moment.  “At least with COPS it was against our will.”

 

“Oh, that wasn’t against my will.”

 

“Well it was against  _ my _ will.”

 

“You know, I’ve got that episode on the DVR too.  It reruns all the time.”

 

“Delete that.  Now.”

 

Mulder chuckled and padded over to the couch.  He lifted the blanket out of the way and sat beside her.  Daggoo opened his eyes and then sighed and went back to sleep.

 

“Well, did you find one?”

 

“You didn’t watch the whole thing?”

 

“Just what few minutes I could tolerate.”

 

“You know you’d be the first person I’d call if I found a Bigfoot, Scully.  Are you just jealous I didn't take you ‘squatch hunting?”

 

“Really, Mulder?”

 

“Because the Monongahela National Forest is only a few hours away and it’s a hotbed of ‘squatch sightings.  We haven't been camping in a long time.”

 

“Stop saying ‘squatch.  And there’s a reason we don’t go camping.”

 

“Wouldn't it be cool to see a Bigfoot though, Scully?”

 

Scully snorted and scratched the top of Daggoo’s head as she looked at Mulder.  There was a twinkle in his eye that she hadn’t seen for quite some time.  She gave him a smile and leaned back into the couch.

 

“Tell me about the Monongahela sightings,” she said.

  
The End


	49. D-don't do that with your lips

She was putting more pressure on herself than she should and she knew it.  She had to keep reminding herself, over and over, it was just dinner.  Just dinner.  Technically, it was a date, but it was also  _ just dinner _ .  At this point, she and Mulder had had hundreds of dinners together.  They’d just never been on any dates.

 

As she furiously stirred the spaghetti sauce to keep it from burning, she had to ask herself what she could possibly have been thinking when she asked him to come over.  Maybe it was too soon for something like this.  Maybe they should’ve gone out to eat instead.  But, no, they would be far too nervous and uncomfortable in public.  This was better.  And she really did want to cook for him.  Prove that she could slice and dice more than dead bodies.

 

Scully lifted the wooden spoon out of the spaghetti sauce and blew on it to cool it down a little before dipping the tip of her tongue onto it.  It needed something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  Maybe oregano.

 

“How’s it going in there?” Mulder called.

 

“Fine,” Scully called back.

 

Two wine glasses sat on the edge of the counter.  She’d poured them both when he got there and forgot to take them out.  She got sidetracked by the sauce.  And oh, she needed to get the spaghetti down from the shelf.  The water was just starting to boil on the back of the stove.

 

Standing on tip-toe, Scully’s fingers were just able to make the slightest hint of contact with the plastic container she kept the noodles in.  If she was wearing shoes, she’d be fine, but in bare feet, she lost the precious inches needed to reach.  She probably should’ve just called Mulder in to get it for her.  It probably would’ve made his day, needing to grab something off a shelf for her.  But, stubborn and independent as always, she had to get it herself.

 

It happened so fast.  She bent her knees to hop up and swipe the container off the shelf, but she misjudged the strength of her hand.  The container flew towards her and she stumbled out of the way, reaching for something to hold on to.  Her right hand hit the handle of the saucepan and her her left slipped out from under her on the counter, knocking into the wine glasses.

 

The top of the plastic container popped off, sending spaghetti bouncing across the floor.  The saucepan tumbled off the stove, splattering sauce over the broken noodles and down the side of the oven.  The wine glasses shattered on top of the mess, adding white wine and broken glass to the mix.

 

Mulder was in the doorway in an instant and for a moment, Scully was surprised he didn’t have his weapon drawn.  She blinked at him in shock and then mortification set in and she bit her lip.

 

“Don’t move,” Mulder said, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater.

 

“It was an accident,” she said.

 

“I can see that.  But, you’re barefoot and there’s glass all over.  Don’t move.”

 

Scully looked down at the mess at her feet.  “Damn,” she muttered.

 

First, Mulder shut off the burners.  Then, cautiously, he took a wide step over the mess and put his hands on Scully’s hips.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“Bend your knees, let me scoop you up.”

 

“Mulder, no.  Just get me my shoes.”

 

“Don’t be difficult, bend your knees.”

 

Scully sighed and put her arm around Mulder’s shoulders.  He leaned down and she bent her knees and he scooped her up.  He smiled and jiggled her a little.

 

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” he said.

 

She kicked her feet a little and squirmed and he laughed, loosening his arms a little to pretend he was going to drop her and she clutched his shoulder tightly.  Suddenly, she turned and buried her face against his neck and wrapped her other arm around him.

 

“Hey,” he said, easing her down onto the little table in her kitchen and out of harms way.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m so embarrassed,” she mumbled, her neck bent and eyes downcast.

 

“You should see the messes I make when I cook.  “We’ll just have to be that couple that eats out all the time.”

 

“I can cook, Mulder.  It was just…”

 

“First date jitters?”

 

“It’s ridiculous, I know.”  She pushed her bottom lip out, feeling very angry and pouty at the moment.

 

“D-don’t do that with your lips,” Mulder said.

 

“Do what?”

 

He touched his finger to the plump middle of her bottom lip and dragged it down a bit.  “Don’t pout like that,” he whispered, bending slightly so his face was closer to hers.  “It looks too adorable and I’m gonna have to kiss you if you keep doing it.”

 

She pushed her lip out further, but the corners of her mouth came up as well with amusement that crinkled her eyes.  He leaned in and pressed tiny kisses to her bottom lip, nibbling at it lightly until she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.  He rested his forehead against hers and brushed his nose back and forth across the tip of hers.

 

“I think we should order a pizza,” he said.

 

She laughed and nodded her head.  

  
The End


	50. The Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr dialogue only challenge piece

“Mulder, he isn’t going to show.”

 

“Barely one a.m., Scully.  He’ll be here.  Just wait.”

 

“That’s what you said at 10, and 11, and half an hour ago.”

 

“I think the moral of this story is, you’re a very impatient woman.”

 

“And you’re a very stubborn man.”

 

“I prefer dedicated.”

 

“Well, I would prefer you taking me home and curling up in my nice, warm bed and sleeping in past eight tomorrow.”

 

“I’m flattered, but shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?”

 

“What?”

 

“You just told me you wanted me to take you home and curl up in bed with you.  Your nice, warm bed.”

 

“You know what I meant.”

 

“Anytime, Scully, you just say the word.”

 

“Would it get me out of this worthless stake-out if I did?”

 

“I was only teasing.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“...Scully, if you want to go home...I mean...you certainly don’t...I mean…”

 

“Mulder, you wouldn’t know what to do with the word if I gave it to you with neon lights and a prominent arrow saying ‘here is the word, take it.’”

 

“Did you just question my manhood?”

 

“I just called attention to your ability to dish it, but not take it.”

 

“I can take it.  I can definitely take it.”

 

“Well then, take me home.”

 

“But, if this is just because you think the stake-out is a wash…”

 

“I rest my case.”

 

“...are you serious, Scully?”

 

“There’s only one way to find out.”

 

“Because you yawned seven times in under five minutes, so maybe you’ll just say anything for me to take you home.”

 

“And how many times have I fallen asleep on a stake-out?  A dozen, I imagine.  So, if I wanted to sleep, I would sleep.  But, it’s up to you.  Stay or go.”

 

“Is this a now or never kind of thing?”

 

“You know he isn’t showing if he hasn’t by now.  There’s no reason for us to be out here.  Eventually, you’re gonna have to put your money where your mouth is...or your mouth...well…”

 

“Scully…”

 

“My offer expires in exactly one minute, Mulder.  Tick tock.”

 

“That was number eight.”

 

“Stop counting my yawns.  Thirty seconds.”

 

“I just…”

 

“Ten seconds.”

 

“Fine.  We’ll go.  But, just so you know, I’m not having sex with you just because you’re offering, I’m having sex with you because I love you, and you’re finally offering.”

 

“Who said anything about sex?  I just want to sleep.”

 

“...ouch.  Scully, one.  Mulder, zero.”

 

“Take me home.  Stay the night.  Let’s see what happens in the morning.”

 

“You can forget everything I just said.”

 

“I love you too, Mulder.  Now, take me home.”

 

The End


	51. Get under the covers // you look cold // please don't leave me

 

Even though she tried to act tough most of the time, Mulder knew that Scully was actually a pushover when he played his cards right.  If he had a dollar for every time he heard, “Mulder, no,” before she went ahead and followed through with whatever she objected to, he could probably retire.  All things considered, it was still more difficult than it usually was to persuade her to spring him from his latest stint in the hospital.

 

“You gotta get me outta here,” he rasped.

 

“Stop talking.”

 

“Please, Scully.”

 

“Mulder, no.”

 

“I can’t stay here.  The food is bad and it smells like bandages.  Besides, I think the night nurse has her eye on me and I’m afraid she might try to sneak a peek under my gown while I’m asleep.”

 

“Mulder…”  Her face was pained, but he could tell she was already softening.  “You need someone who can care for you.  Your lungs are still weak.  Overexertion, even by accident, could cause a collapse or even worse, we have no idea what those beetles did to you.  You need to heal.”

 

“Who better to heal me than you?”

 

“A hospital.  This hospital.  With doctors and nurses and equipment and-”

 

“You’re a doctor.  If anything happens, you’ll know what to do.”

 

“I may not.”

 

“And I trust you not to overexert me,” he added with a wink and a smile.  “Until you deem it safe.”

 

She sighed and he knew he had her.  Hours later, that’s why he found himself all snug and secure, shirtless and content on top of Scully’s bed as she shifted a stethoscope over his chest to listen to his lungs.

 

“All good?” Mulder asked.

 

“Shhhh,” she said.  “Take a deep breath.”

 

He did as she asked and stayed quiet as she listened to his chest.  After awhile, she pulled the headpiece away from her ears and coiled the stethoscope on top of her nightstand.  Her hand rested lightly on top of his chest where she’d just been listening.

 

“Get under the covers,” she said.

 

“Why?”

 

“You need to stay warm.”

 

“I think this is working well enough,” he said, covering her hand where it rested against him and stroking her wrist with his fingertips.

 

A pink blush tinted the apples of Scully’s cheeks and she slowly slipped her hand out from under his as she stood.  She tugged at the bedclothes under Mulder and he rolled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.  He would have to admit that the movement did make his chest burn a little and shortened his breath.  He lay back down and then let Scully tuck him in.

 

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked.  “Please don’t leave me.”

 

“Does your chest hurt?”  Instantly concerned, she sat back down on the side of the bed and pulled the covers back to touch his chest and then feel his forehead.

 

“If I said yes, would you stay?”

 

“Don’t scare me like that.”

 

“You look cold.”

 

“I look cold?”  She raised her brow at him.

 

“Plenty of room in this big bed of yours if you want to join me.”

 

“Will you stay quiet if I do?”

 

He nodded to prove he could.  She sighed and kicked her shoes off and then moved to the other side of the bed to slide in beside him.  He grinned and opened his arm to her so she could rest her head on his shoulder.  She brushed her palm across his chest and then splayed her fingers over his heart.

 

“You know,” he said.  “It was only less than a week ago that-”

 

“Shhhh,” she interrupted.  “You promised.”

 

“I just wanted to point out, lying here like this-”

 

“I can literally feel you thinking overexerting thoughts,” she said, flexing her fingers against his chest.  “Put it out of your mind.  You need to get well.”

 

“Five days, eight hours, twen-”

 

“Shhhh.”

 

Mulder trailed a finger up and down Scully’s spine under her thin sweater and then played with the ends of her her at her nape.  She breathed deeply and shifted against him.

 

“I can’t help thinking overexerting thoughts,” he said.  “It’s like asking someone not to think of a pink elephant.”

 

“Then, think of a pink elephant,” she said.

 

“You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

 

“About a pink elephant?”

 

“Five days, eight hours-”

 

“Shhhh.”

 

Mulder put his hand over Scully’s to keep it against his chest and stopped talking.  He breathed quietly and evenly, trying not to let any overexerting thoughts get in the way of his healing.

  
The End


	52. You have no idea what I do for you

She lowers herself down and places her head on Mulder’s back.  His bowed shoulders tense slightly and his body goes rigid as the SWAT team floods the room.  She kneels and cradles his head to her chest, her hand on his cheek and his cheek pressed to her breast.  She wraps her other arm around him to hide his face before she raises her head.

 

“Stand down,” Scully yells, shielding him from the noise of the SWAT and her raised voice.  

 

“Agent Scully, back away!”  She can’t tell who delivers the order in the dark.

 

“You back away!” she shouts back.  “Lower your weapons.  There’s no threat here.”

 

“Agent Scully-”

 

“I said stand down!” she screams.  “You have a problem with that order, you call AD Skinner, otherwise get out of this room and let me tend to my partner!”

 

It works.  The SWAT team moves out and she’s left behind with Mulder, still slumped on the floor.  He feels small and broken in her arms, which should be impossible.

 

“We have to get out of here,” she says, when her knees can’t take it anymore and he’s been quiet for too long.  “Mulder, we have to get out of here.”

 

She feels him nod against her breast.  He’s slow to his feet and she has to help him up.  He leans against her like a drunk, unable to put one foot in front of the other without staggering slightly.  She puts him into her car and hurries to the driver’s side to put as much distance as she can between them and the red and blue lights of the police cars.

 

The first motel she comes across, she stops.  She’s exhausted and doesn’t want to drive all the way back to DC tonight.  Mulder hasn’t spoken; hasn’t done much of anything besides stare out the window.  It worries her when he’s this quiet.  It means wherever he’s gone to in his head isn’t a good place.

 

She pays for a single room with her own credit card, not the bureau’s, and guides Mulder inside.  It’s a dark room, with dark wood paneling, brown carpet, and brown bedspread.  The lighting is poor and casts an orange glow from where it hangs from a gold chain above the center of the room.  The linoleum is peeling in the bathroom, but they’ve both seen much worse.

 

“Let’s just go to sleep,” she says.  Her eyes feel like sandpaper.

 

Mulder nods and steps out of his shoes.  She turns around when he unbuckles his belt and hears his jeans slump to the floor as she shuts the door to the bathroom, taking the overnight back she’d brought in from the car with her.  She feels impractical in her silk pajamas, but at least they’re pajamas.  She washes her face and then stares at her reflection for a good solid minute before she sighs and turns out the light.

 

It isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward when she slides between the sheets beside him - behind him, really, he’s got his back to her.  She turns onto her side and looks at the back of his head in the dark until she can no longer keep her eyes open.

 

The bed is shaking when she wakes.  It takes her some time to realize it’s Mulder, twitching and trembling beside her.  She puts her hand on his shoulder and he sits up with a hoarse cry.  He gulps for breath and she sits up as well, putting her arm around his back.  She can feel his heat and sweat through his t-shirt.

 

“Mulder?” she whispers.

 

He pulls away from her and stumbles out of bed, but stands in the middle of the room on shaking knees, obviously disoriented.  He shivers and rubs his arms, but it doesn’t help.  Scully isn’t sure if he’s cold or if it’s the effects of withdrawal from the ketamine.

 

“Mulder, come lay down.”

 

“I don’t want to,” he says.  “I was so close, Scully.”

 

“You only thought you were, Mulder.  It was the drug making you hallucinate.  That’s all.”

 

“No, I almost had it.”  He covers his face with both hands and shakes his head.  “You should’ve let me...you should’ve just let me…”

 

“Let you what?  Kill yourself for a false truth?”

 

“You don’t know that it’s false.”

 

“And you can’t trust that it was real.  It’s not worth dying for, Mulder.  And it certainly isn’t worth killing yourself for either.”

 

“Who would even care?”

 

“I would care!” she says forcefully, punching the bed in sudden frustration.

 

Mulder’s hands slip from his face, but he stays bent and tense in the middle of the room.  Hot tears gather in the corner of Scully’s eyes and it makes her angry.  She discretely swipes them away and turns to lay on her side, facing the wall.

 

“Honestly, how dare you,” she says, and doesn’t even care about the bitterness of her tone.

 

A few quiet minutes pass and then Mulder lays back down in the bed.  She tries to keep her breathing quiet through her gritted teeth, but she’s ready to snap with tension.  And then it all deflates when she hears Mulder suck in a breath and she knows he’s crying.  She rolls over and touches his face.  He turns towards her and curls up in a fetal position, the top of his head butting into her chest.  She sighs and runs her hand down from his neck, along his back, and then up to thread her fingers in his hair.

 

“Oh, Mulder.”  She sighs and presses her lips to his temple and he snakes an arm over her waist and holds on to her shirt.  She can feel his tears bleeding through to her chest and she knows the silk will be stained, but she doesn’t care.

 

“I just want to know,” he coughs.  “I  _ need _ to know.”

 

She rubs his back again.  “I know,” she whispers into his ear.  “I know.  But, that wasn’t the way.”

 

He shudders against her and then shivers.  She reaches down and pulls the covers up and over them both.  She strokes his hair and sweeps the dampness from his cheek away with her thumb.

 

“Don’t leave me behind again,” she says.  “Whatever road you want to follow, Mulder, I’ll be right beside you.”

 

“You don’t have to do that for me,” he answers.

 

_ You have no idea what I do for you _ , she thinks.   _ What I  _ have _ done for you _ .  “You’re my partner, Mulder,” she says.  “I wish you would remember that.”

 

His hand relaxes at her back and he lifts his head from her chest to look at her.  He’s staring at the point between her brows and she nearly lifts her hand to check for a nosebleed.  Just thinking about it makes her nose tingle.  She nervously licks the side of her mouth and finally, he lays his head back down against her chest.

 

“I wish you would too,” he says. 

 

She closes her eyes and buries her nose in his hair.

  
The End


	53. First kiss // Shooting star

  1. First Kiss 15. Shooting Star msr



 

It was rare, but not unheard of, for Scully to go at a case with the same rabid fervor as Mulder usually did.  Even when things got frustrating, she remained steadfast and determined, but calm.  For her to show up at Mulder’s door on a Saturday night with a file in her hand was not quite as event-equivalent as Haley’s Comet, but it occurred about as often as one saw a shooting star. 

 

Mulder let her in with a surprised look on his face.  She wore a sheepish, but determined expression, apologizing for the late hour at the same time she charged towards his couch to spread open the file in her hand.  He sat down beside her and tried to listen to what she had to say, but he was caught off guard by her casual attire.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’s seen her in jeans and a t-shirt.  Her tennis shoes squeaked against his floor.

 

An hour later, there were no new answers or theories and Scully was no less frustrated.  Mulder put a hand on the center of her back when she sighed.  

 

“We’ll catch a break,” he said.  “Just not tonight.  The answer will be in the tox screen.  I’m sure of it.”

 

Scully sighed again and Mulder’s hand drifted down her back just as she stretched her arms up over her head.  Her t-shirt rode up and suddenly his fingertips were brushing skin.  He froze, not sure of what to do.  It felt silly to pull away, like touching her was somehow distasteful, and he didn’t want to offend.  But, it also felt wrong to linger where he wasn’t invited.

 

Unconsciously, Mulder’s hand slid to Scully’s hip as she lowered her arms and adjusted her shirt.  She cleared her throat and he moved his arm back, embarrassed by the obvious awkwardness of the gesture.

 

“May I use your bathroom?” Scully asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

As Scully disappeared into his bedroom, Mulder fell back against the couch and put his hands over his face.  He felt like an idiot.  Actually, he felt like an inexperienced teenager instead of an adult man.  He loved Scully, no doubt about it, but letting himself lust after her was a different matter altogether.  Thinking about the warmth and softness of her skin under his fingers made all the feelings he kept suppressed bubble to the surface.  He pushed himself up from the couch and moved towards his bedroom.

 

Determined, and not paying attention, Mulder bumped into Scully in the doorway of his bedroom and they both grunted in surprise.  He grabbed her hips to steady her and she rubbed her nose where she’d hit his chest.  They ended up sideways, Scully’s back against the doorframe.

 

“Sorry,” he said.  “I wasn’t…”

 

“S’okay,” she answered, running the side of one knuckle up and down the bridge of her nose.

“Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

As though they had a mind of their own, his thumbs slid under the edge of her t-shirt and followed the lines of her hip bones where he held her.  It felt strange to touch her like that, but he wanted to so badly.

 

Scully’s lips parted as she sucked in a breath and her back arched, just a little.  Her arms swung down to grip both sides of the doorframe as though she was catching herself from falling.  Half her face was kept in shadow from his dark room and the other half was dimly lit from the low lamplight across the living area, but he could still see the stain of heat in her cheeks.

 

Mulder’s mouth felt dry and he knew he should say something, but he was completely tongue-tied.  He swallowed nervously and Scully’s eyes dropped to his mouth.  Her jaw moved a little as though she was about to speak, but she didn’t.  He tipped his head and lowered it towards her and she looked up at him as he descended.

 

Just as his lips touched hers, she tensed and squeezed the doorframe as she murmured his name.  He paused and pulled back just a fraction as she turned her cheek.

 

“Wait,” she said.

 

He took his hands off her, embarrassed, and took a step back.  “Sorry, I just…”

 

“No, I…”  She finally let go of the door and stood a little taller as she reached up to him, hesitating for a moment before holding his face lightly.  He put one hand above her head and leaned towards her.

 

“Scully?”  

 

She pulled his head down a little and stretched her neck up.  Their mouths came together and apart and then together again, longer this time, and then parted once more.

 

“This is weird,” she whispered, mouth brushing his as she spoke.

 

“Well, I’m weird,” he answered, huffing out a nervous chuckle.  “And so are you.”  

 

“Put your hands back on me.”

 

He put one hand back on her hip and let his arm fall from over her head to rest the other one on the other side.  Her thumbs ran across his cheekbones, back and forth, back and forth.  Very slowly, he moved his hands up under her shirt to circle her waist, just below her ribs.  She was so warm.  So warm and soft.  Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips and he bent his head again to chase it back into her mouth.  She answered with a whimpering sigh and he leaned his body into her to press her fully against the doorjamb.

 

Mulder couldn’t estimate the length of their next kiss, but it seemed infinite.  The gurgle of his fish tank was muted by the wet smack of their lips and their harsh, uncontrollable breathing.  At some point, her arms became twined around his neck and he pulled her from the door to lock her in the tight circle of his arms.  He could feel her shifting against him, on tip-toe, fighting to hold herself up.  Finally, reluctantly, he softened his mouth and pulled away slowly, easing her down while still keeping her in his embrace.

 

“Um,” she said.

 

“Wow?” he replied.

 

She shyly dropped her head, but he caught the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile.  Her head bumped against his chest and he loosened his grip on her to reach up and stroke her hair from the back of her head down past her neck, hand over hand.

 

“I should go,” she said.

 

“You could stay,” he answered.

 

She shook her head and then looked up at him.  He rested his arms on her shoulders and rubbed her hair between her fingers before he nodded and let go of her.  She slipped past him and went to his couch to collect the file she’d brought over.

 

“So, um,” she said, not looking at him again.  “I think…”

 

“Dinner?” he asked.  “Tomorrow night?  Or next week sometime?”

 

“We should get the tox screen back on Tuesday.”

 

“Monday night, then?”

 

“And if you’re right about those samples…”

 

“Our hands are tied until Wednesday.”

 

“Or we could do brunch tomorrow.”

 

“Sure.”  Mulder brushed his finger under Scully’s chin so she would pick her head up and look at him.  She lifted her eyes to his, looked away, and then lifted them again.

 

“The case is...the case is our priority,” she said.

 

He nodded.  “What time should I pick you up?”

 

“Like a date?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She hesitated.  “The lab still could call tomorrow if they find something.  Even though it’s Sunday.”

 

“How’s eleven?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Even if they find something, there’s still not much we can do right now.”

 

“I know, but it’s...frustrating.”

 

He nodded in agreement and then reached out to give a small tug at one of the belt loops on her jeans.  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?  It’s late.”

 

Boldly, he slipped his thumb up under her shirt again and ghosted over that smooth, silky skin once more.  Five minutes ago he wouldn’t have dared to touch her so familiarly and confidently, but that was before he’d kissed her.  Now, he owned that spot on her hip where the bone sloped so elegantly down into as yet mysterious and uncharted territory, but he had a feeling he was soon going to be able to take possession of that too.

 

“Night, Scully,” he said.

 

Scully hugged the file close with one hand and she pressed the other hand to his chest, palm flat.  Her eyes were wide.  Terrified.  He took his hand off her hip and covered hers against his chest.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

 

She nodded in sharp, jerking motions with her head.  He smiled and ran his hand down her arm, blazing a trail of gooseflesh in his wake.  Before he stepped away, he pushed her hair away and skimmed the back of her ear with his fingertips as he tucked it back from her face.  She glanced back once at him before she left with just the faintest hint of a smile.  He knew tomorrow was going to be a good day.

  
The End


	54. Mulder catches Scully's stomach flu and now they're both sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested story prompt from tumblr

“I told you this would happen,” Scully mumbles.

“Doctors aren’t supposed to get sick,” Mulder mumbles back, a groan escaping as he curls up on the bed beside her.

“You’re not a doctor.”

“But, you are.”

Scully pulls a hand free from under the covers and weakly drops it onto Mulder’s forehead. He groans again and turns his head away.

“My stomach feels like it’s on fire,” he says.

“Are you gonna throw up?”

“Worse than that.”

“I told you to just sleep downstairs.”

“I haven’t slept on a couch in years.” He turns and curls his body up a little more, moves his head down where he can feel the curve of the back of her knee and nuzzles her through the duvet. “Besides, wouldn’t you have missed me up here all alone?”

“Not when I was running to the bathroom every ten minutes, no.”

“You didn’t find it romantic when I was holding your hair back and splashing cold water on your face?”

“Romantic isn’t the word I’d use.”

Mulder presses his face a little harder into Scully’s leg and moans. Her hand flops back onto his head and she scratches her fingers against his scalp. After a few moments, he reaches up and clasps her fingers, holding her hand by his chest instead and they both lay quiet, Scully inside the covers, Mulder outside.

“This must be what they call a love bug,” Mulder says.

Scully gives a weak chuckle and a light squeeze of his hand. “Next time you should sleep downstairs.”

“Never,” he murmurs.

The End


End file.
